L'JfefiililjlikltJ.litJliLiU.  .—  ^1 


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UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


Treasure  %oom 


Addifonian  Mifcellany 


BEING 


A  Selcdion  of  Valuable  Pieces,  from  thofc  juftiy 

Celebrated  and   Claffic    Works,  the 

SpeSiator^   Tatlery  and  Guardian, 

TO    WIITCH    IS    PP.EFIXED, 

THE    LIFE    OF  ^ 

JOSEPH  ADDISON,  Eso, 

Defigned  for  the  School  and  the  Librajy. 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED   FOR   JOSEFH  BUMSTEAD, 

Sold  ey  him  at  No.  20,  Union-Street  : 

BT 
Thomas  and  Andrews,  Neweury -Street  5  by  E.and 

S.   LaRKIN,  Wm.   p.    and   L.   liLAKE,   W.   PfiLHAM, 
AND    C.    BiNGHAM,      CoRNHILI,. 


I  801 


THE 


LIFE 


©F 


JOSEPH  ADDISON,  Esq,. 


i 


i 


HE  juHiIy  admired  Addifon,  was  born  Ma^r  illr, 

1672,  at  Milton  in  Wiltfliire,  England,  where  hisfa- 

,  ther  Dr.  Lancelot  Addifon  was   re6tor.     Addifon  is 

f  fuppoled  by  fome  writers,  to  have  produced  upwards 

of  a  fourth  part  of  the  S^eSIator  and  Guardiany  befides 

-    feveral  other  works  of  merit. 

He  was  appointed  fecretary  to  the  regency  on  the 
death  of  queen  Anne  j  being  required  to  fend  notice  to 
\  .Hanover,  of  that    circumRance,  and  that  the  throne 
was  vacant.     To   do   this  would  not  have  been  diffi- 
cult to  any  man  but  Addifon,  who  was  fo  diftradted 
/by  a  choice  of  exprefiion,  on   this  cccafion,  tliat   the 
•  iords,  who  could  viot  v/ait  for  the  niceties  of  criticifm, 
called  Mr.  Soutliwell,   a  clerk  In  the  houfc,  and  or- 
dered him  to  difpatch  the  mefiage.     Southwell  rearii- 
.   ly  told  what  was  neceflary,  in  the  common  fliie  of  bu- 
l  finefs,  and  1-oafted  his  having  done  v/hat  appeared  too 
hard  for  Addifon. 

In  1 7 1 6,  he  married  the  countcfs  dowager  of  War- 
wick. He  is  faid  to  have  firfl  become  acquainted 
with  this  lady,  when  he  was  tutor  to  her  fon.  It  Is 
reported,  that  his  marrkge  did  not  add  much  to  his 

^.418 


iv  LIFE  OF  ADDISON. 

happinefs  ;  the  countefs  always  remembered  her  rank, 
rnd  treated  the  former  tutor  of  her  (on  with  but  lit- 
tle ceremony.  It  is  well  known,,  that  Mr.  Addifon 
hath  left  behind  him  no  inducement  to  ambitious 
matches. 

He  was  made  fecretary  of  ftate,  in  1717  ;  but  it  i* 
generally  allowed  that  he  was  not  well  calculated  for 
that  (lation  ;  being  no  orator,  he  could  not  harangue 
in  the  houfe  of  commons  in  defence  of  the  govern- 
ment. He  foon  relinquiflied  this  office,  and  obtained 
a  penfion  of  15C0I  per  annum. 

Dr.  Samuel  Johnlon's  admirable  delineation  of  the* 
cliaracler  of  Addifon,  toncludes  thus,  *'  He  employ- 
ed wit  on  the  fide  of  virtue  and  rclii^ion  ;  he  not  on- 
ly made  the  proper  ufe  of  wit  hlmfclf,  but  taught  it  to 
others  j  and  from  his  time  it  has  been  generally  fub- 
fervient  to  the  caufe  of  reafon  and  truth.  He  has  dif- 
flpated  the  prejudices  that  had  long  connc<fled  gaiety 
with  vice,  and  eafinefs  of  manners  with  laxity  of  prin- 
ciples.' He  has  reltored  virtue  to  its  dignity,  and 
taught  Innocence  not  to  be  afiiamed.  1  his  is  an  el- 
evation of  literary  charadler,  above  all  "  Gretk,  above 
all  Roman  name."  No  greater  felicity  can  genius  at- 
tain than  that  of  having  purified  intellectual  pleafure, 
feparated  mirth  from  indecency,  and  wit  from  licen- 
tioufnefs  ;  of  having  taught  a  fuccefiion  of  writers  to 
bring  elegance  and  grdety  to  the  aid  of  goodnefs;  and 
if  I  may  ufe  exprelTicns  yet  more  awful,  of  having 
•'  turned  many  to  righteoufnefs." 

**  As  a  teacher  of  wifdom  he  may  be  confidently 
followed  :  his  religion  has  nothing  in  it  enthufiaftic 
or  fuperflitious  ;  he  appears  neither  lueakly  credulous, 
nor  'wanionh  fceptical  •,  his  morality  is  neither  danger- 
oufly  lax,    not  im^praClically  rigid." 

Addifon,  has  given  abundant  proof  of  his  firm  be- 
fief  of  i.hrijlianiiy^  and  his  zeal  againlt  unbelievers,  in 
h^is  evidences  of  the  Chriilian  religion.  11 

*«  Let  it  be  fuppofed,  fays  he,  that  a  heathen  philo-  f| 
fopher,  who  flouriihed  within  fixty  years  of  our  Sa 
viour's  crucifixion,  after  having  fliewn  that  falfe  mir- 
acles were  generally  wrought  in  obfcurityj  and  before 

i 


I 


LIFE  OP  ADDISON.  v 

fev^  or  no  witncfFes,  treating  on  the  miracles  of  dirift, 
ftiould  have  thus  exprefftd  himfel^:'* 

'"  But  the  works  of  Clirift  were  always  /efn  true  \ 
they  were  fee  n  by  thofe  whc  were  healed,  and  thofe 
who  were  railed  fiom  the  dead.  Many  of  'the  per- 
fens  who  were  thus  hei^.led  and  raifed,  were  feen,  not 
oily  at  the  time  the  miracles  w^re  wrought  on  them, 
but  many  years  aft  wards.  They  were  i^ttn  while 
Chriil  was  upon  earth,  and  of.er  his  afcenfion  j  nay, 
fome  of  them  were  livirg  in  our  da^s  /'* 

<*  I  am  confident  you  would  regard  fuch  a  tefti- 
mony  as  highly  favourable  to  Chriftianity.  But  this 
evidence,  in  fadl,  wc  have  in  behalf  of  our  religion  ; 
for  thefe  were  the  words  of  ^a^rafui^  an  Athenian 
philcfopher,  who  lived  at  the  period  above  mention- 
ed. But  a  convert,  you  f.:y,  to  Chriftianity  !  Reflect 
a*  moment.  Does  not  this  ^very  circum/iance  give  e^ca^ 
€y  to  his  attpftation  ?  Had  he  continued  a  Pagan  phi- 
lofo|  htr,  the  world  wculd  have  doubted  the  fincerity 
of  his  relatK^n.  But  he  had^o  thoroughly  examined  our 
Saviour's  hiltory,  and  the  excellence  of  the  religion  he 
taught ;  and  was  fo  perfedly  convinced  of  the  truth 
of /c//;,  that  he  became  a  prolelyte  to  the  ChriiUaa 
faith,  and  to  it  died  a  martyr*.** 

Addifon  s  writings  on  religious  fubjects  certainly 
difcover  a  folid  and  pious  frame  of  mind  5  and  Iiis 
general  condu£t  through  life  gives  us  a  convincing 
proof,  that  what  he  wrote  were  the  genuine  feelings 
of  his  heart.  But  his  virtue  fhone  out  brighteit 
at  his  death  j  for,  after  a  long  and  manly,  but 
watn  firuggJe  with  his  diilempeis,  (the  ailhma  and 
dropfy)  he  difmifled  his  phyficians,  and  with  them  all 
hopts  of  life  ;  but  did  not  difmifs  his  concern  for  the 
living  ;  having  fent  for  the  young  Earl  of  Warwick 
who  was  nearly  related  to  him  ;  upon  this  nobleman's 
arrival  he  was  almoll  gone  ;  young  Warwick,  thus 
addrefTed  him  :  ''Dear  Sir,  you  fent  for  me;  I  be- 
lieve, and  hope,  you  have  Ibme  commands  ;  I  {hall 
hold  them  mod  dear.'*     May  diflant  ages  not  only 

■    •  Evidences,  p.  zi, 

A  2 


vi  LIFE  o¥  ADD260N. 

hear,  but  feel  the  reply  !  Forcibly  grafping  the  youth's 
hand,  he  foftly  faid,  "  See  in  what  peace  a  Chriftian 
can  die."  Shortly  after  he  died,  on  the  19th  of  June 
1719.* 

This  great  character  derived  much  comfort  from 
his  firm  hope  of  another  and  better  ftate. 

The  following  were  his  fentiments  on  that  head. 
*'  The  profpeO:  of  a  future  ftate,  fays  he,  is  the  fecrct 
comfort  and  refredirnent  of  my  foul.  It  is  that  which 
makes  nature  look  cheerful  about  me  ;  it  doubles  all 
my  plcafures,  and  fupports  me  under  all  my  atilic- 
tions.  I  can  look  at  difappointments  and  misfor' 
tunes,  pain,  and  ficknefs,  death  itfelf,  with  indiffer- 
ence, fo  long  as  I  keep  in  view  the  pleafures  of  eter- 
nity, and  the  ftate  of  being  in  which  there  will  be  no 
fears  nor  apprchenfions,  pains  nor  forrows." 

"  All  forts  of  men,  fays  Addifon,  who  have  gone  be- 
fore us  into  an  eternal  ftate,  have  left  this  great  ob- 
fervation  behind  them,  that  upon  experience  thty  have 
found,  that,  v/hat  vain  thoughts  foever  men  may,  in 
the  heat  of  their  youth  entertain  of  religion,  they  will, 
fooncr  or  later,  feel  the  teftimony  God  hath  given  it 
in  every  man's  breaft';  which  will  make  them  feriocs, 
cither  by  the  inexpreffible  fears,  terrors,  and  agonies 
of  a  troubled  mind  ;  or  the  inconceivable  comfort^ 
and  joy  of  a  good  confcience. 

"  It  is  to  be  obferved,  that  Chriftianity  not  only 
profelyted  men  to  the  belief  and  outward  profeihon 
of  Chriftianityj  but  had  a  vifible  and  moral  efFe£l:  up- 
on their  lives  and  conducS^.  Never  was  any  other 
caufe  fupported  with  fuch  irreiiilible  evidence. 
Wherever  it  came  it  was  received  by  multitudes,  at 
the  expence  of  their  property,  characters  and  lives: 
many  of  thefe  who  had  hitherto  lived  debauched,  im- 
pious and  idolatrous  lives,  became  now  fober,  tempe- 
rate, hon'^ft  and  religious.  This  was  not  indeed  uni- 
verfally  the  cafe,  becaufe  all  were  not  fmcere  in  their 
^  profeihon  •,  but  it  was  fo,  to  ^n  extent  that  no  other 
religion  could  bpaft.     Nay  the  Pagan  religion  general- 

»  See  Brkilh  Plutaicb^  Scu 


LIFE  OF  ADDISON.  vli 

ly  mzdc  men  morally  worfe,  in  proportion  to  the 
zeal  with  which  they  profelTed  it. 

The  remaining  effect  of  the  Spirit's  effufion  was  the 
conftimcy  and  readinefs  with  which  men  fuffered  the 
[lofs  of  all  things,  and  even  martyrdom  itfelf  in  its 
moll  terrible  forms." 

— "  I  cannot  omit  (fays  Mr.  Adr^-fon*)  that  -which 
appears  to  me  a  ftandmg  miracle  in  the  three  firft 
centuries,  I  mean  that  amazing  and  fupcrnatural 
courage  or  patience  which  was  ihewn  by  mnumera- 
ble  multitudes  of  martyrs  in  thofe  flow  and  painful 
torments  which  were  inflicted  on  them.  I  cannot 
conceive  a  man  placed  in  the  burning  iron  chair  at 
Lyons,  and  the  infults  and  mockeries  of  a  crouded 
amphitheatre,  and  flill  keeping  his  feat :  or  (Irctched 
upon  a  grate  of  iron,  over  coals  of  fire,  and  breathing 
out  his  foul  among  the  exquifite  fufftrings  of  fuch  a 
tedious  execution,  rather  than  renounce  his  religion 
or  blafpheme  his  Saviour.  Such  trials  feem  to  me 
above  the  (Irength  of  human  nature,  and  able  to  over- 
bear dvity,  reaion,  faith,  convi6iion,  nay,  and  the 
moft  abfolute  certainty  of  a  future  ftate.  Humanity, 
unbiafled  in  zn  extraordinary  manner,  muft  have  flia- 
ken  off  the  prcfcnt  preflure,  and  have  delivered  itfelf 
out  of  fuch  dreadful  diflrefs  by  any  means  that  could 
have  been  fuggefted  to  it.  We  can  eafily  imagine 
that  many  perfons  in  -fo  good  a  caufe  might  have  laid 
dawn  their  lives  at  the  gibbet,  the  flake,  or  the  block  ; 
but  to  expire  leifurely  among  the  mcft  exquifite  tor- 
tures, when  they  might  come  out  of  them,  even  by  a 
mental  nfjrvation,  or  an  hypocrify  which  v/as  not 
without  a  poffibility  of  being  followed  by  repentane 
and  forgivenefs,  has  fomc thing  in  it  fo  far  beyond  the 
•  force  and  natural  ffrcngth  of  mortals,  that  one  cannot 
but  think  there  was  fome  miraculous  power  to  fupport 
the  fufferer. 

"  It  is  certain  that  the  deaths  and  fufferings  of  the' 
primitive  Chriftians  had  a  great  (have  in  the  conver- 
lion  of  thofe  learned  Pagans,  who  lived  in.  the  ages 

*  Evivicaccs  of  the  Chriftian  Religion,  Seft.  vii. 


xnii  LIFE  OTT  ADDISON. 

of  periecutlon,  v/hich  with  fome  intervals  and  abate- 
ments, laded  near  300  years  after  our  S.iviour.  Juf- 
tin  Martyr,  Tertullian,  LaQantius,  Arnobius,  and 
others,  teli  us.  that  thislirft  of  all  alarmed  their  cuii* 
ofity,  roufed  their  attention  and  made  them  ferioufly 
inquifitive  into  the  nature  of  that  religion,  whica 
eould  endue  the  .*lnd  with  fo  much  ftrength,  and 
overcome  the  fear  of  death,  nay,  raife  an  earneil  de- 
Ere  of  it,  though  it  appeared  in  all  its  terrors.  Thi^ 
they  found  had  not  been  eiTe^led  by  alt  the  do£^rines 
of  thofe  philofophers,  whom  they  had  thoroughly  Itu- 
died,  and  who  had  been  labouriiig  at  this  great  point. 
The  fight  of  thefe  dying  and  tormented  martyrs  en- 
gaged them  to  fearcn  into  the  hiftory  and  do(2:rine$ 
of  ^  him  for  whom  they  i uttered.  The  more  they , 
fearched,  the  more  they  were  convinced  ;  till  their 
conviction  grew  foftrong,  that  they  themlelves  embra- 
ced the  fame  truths,  and  either  a£lualiy  laid  down 
their  lives,  or  were  always  in  readinefs  to  doit  rath^ 
thaRjdepart  from  them." 


^jj^^  9^:^^^^  ^^j^^ 


THE 


Addifonian  Mifcellany, 


ABSENCE  IN  CONVERSATION. 


Y   friend  IP'ill  Honefccmhe  is  one  of  thofe  fort  of 

i  men  who  are  oltcn  abfent  in  converfation,:ind  what  the 

[French  call  a  Reveur  and  a  Dijlrait.    A  lutlebefore  our 

club-time  lafl  night,  v/e  were  walking  t  igether  in  Som-^ 

j  erjet  Garden^  where  IFi/I  hnd  picked  up  a  Imall  pebble  of 

\  fo  odd  a   make,   that  he  faid  he  would  prefent  it  to  a 

friend   of  his,   an  eminent    Firtusjo,     After  we  had 

walked  feme  time,  1  made  a  full  ilcp,  with   my  face 

.  towards  the  wcfl:,  which  f^^tH  know  ing  to  be  my  ufu- 

',  al  method  of  alking  what's  o'clock   in  an   aftcrnoorr, 

immediately  pulled  out  his  watch,  md  told  me  we  had 

feven  minutes  good.     We  took  a  turn  or  two  more, 

when,  to  my  great  furprife,  I  faw    him    fquirt  away 

his  watch  a  confiderable  way  into  the  Thames*  and 

with  great  fedatenefs  in  his  looks,  put  up  the  pebble, 

he  had  before  found,  in  his  fob.   Ac  I  have  naturally  an 

averfion  to  much  fpeaking,  and  do  not  love  to  be  the 

mefleneer  of  ill  new^s,  eipecially  when  it  comes  too 

late  to  be  ufeful,  I  left  him  to  be  convinced  of  his  mif- 

takc  in  due  time,  and  continued  my  walk,  refle61:ing 

on  thoie  little  abfences  and  diflradions  in  mankind. 


ro  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

Monfieur  Bruyere  has  given  us  the  character  of  afr 
abfeiit  man.  Menalcas  comes  down  in  a  morning^, 
opens  his  door  to  go  out,  but  fhuts  it  again,  becaufe 
he  perceives  he  has  his  night-cap  on  ;  and  examining 
himlelf  farther,  finds  that  he  is  but  half  {iiaved,  that 
he  has  (luck  his  fword  on  his  right  fide,  that  his  Hock- 
ings  are  about  his  heels,  and  that  his  (liirt  is  over  his- 
breeches.  When  he  is  drefled,  he  goes  to  court,- 
comes  into  the  drawing-room,  and  walking  upright, 
under  a  branch  of  candlefticks,  his  wig  is  caught  up  by 
one  'of  theni,  and  hangs  dangling  in  the  air  :  all  the 
courtiers  fall  a  laughing  •,  but  Menalcas  laughs  lauder 
than  any  of  them,  and  looks  about  for  the  perfon  that 
is  the  jeft  of  the  company,.  Coming  down  to  the 
court-gate  he  finds  a  coach,  v/hich  taking  for  his  own, 
he  whips  into  it ;  and  the  coachman  drives  ofF,  not 
doubting  but  he  carries  his  mafker.  As  foon  as  he . 
ftops,  Menalcas  throws  himfelf  out  of  the  coach,  crof- 
fes  the  court  afcends  the  ftair-cafe,  and  runs  through 
all  the  chambers  with  the  greateft  familiarity,  repo- 
fes  himfelf  on  a  couch,  and  fancies  himfelf  at  home. 
The  mailer  of  the  houfe  at  laft  comes  in ;  Menalcas 
rifes  to  receive  him,  and  defires  him  to  fit  down  ;  he 
talks,  mufes,  and  then  talks  again.  The  gentleman 
of  the  houfe  is  tired  and  amazed  j  n'enalcas  is  no 
lefs  fo,  but  is  every  moment  in  hopes  that  his  imper- 
tinent gueft  v/iil  at  iatl  ("nd  his  tedions  vifit.  Night 
comes  on,  when  Menalc^n  is  hardly  undeceived. 

Vv^hen  he  is  playing  at  backgammon,  he  calls  for  a 
full  giafs  of  wine  and  v/ater  •,  'tis  his  turn  to  throw  ; 
he  has  the  box  in  one  hand,  and  his  giafs  i»i  the  oth- 
er •,  and  being  extremely  dry,  and  urAvilling  to  lofe 
time,  he  fwallcws  down  both  the  dice,  and  at  the 
fame  time  throws  his  wine  into  the  tables.  He  writes 
a  letter,  and  flings  the  i^md  into  the  ink-bottle  ;  he 
writes  a  ftcond,  and  midakes  the  fuperfcription  :  A 
nobleman  receives  one  of  them,  and  upon  opening  it, 
leads  as  follows  :  /  ixoud  have  yon  ^  boneji  Jack,  immedi^ 
etel\  upcn  ihi  reisipi  of  this  *  tcke  in  hay  enough  to  fewe  me 
the  Wintti  :  His  Farmer  receives  the  other,  and  is 
amazed  to  fee  in  it,  My  L$rd,  I  receii/ed  your  Gratis  c^m" 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ir 

nands ,  with  an  entire  fuhir.tffion  te  '  If  he  is  at  an  en- 
tertainment, you  may  fee  the  piv^(fes  of  bread  contin- 
ualjy  multiplying  round  his  plate.  'Tis  true,  the  reft 
of  the  company  want  it,  as  well  as  their  knives  and 
forks,  which  Manalcas  does  not   let  them  keep  long. 

(I^liometimes  in  a  morning,  he  puts  his  whole  family  in. 
E  hurry,  and  at  lafl  goes  out  without  being  able  to  Tlay 
^or  his  coach  or  dinner  ;  and  for  that  day  you  may 
fee  him  in  every  part  of  the  town,  except  the  very 
place  where  he  had  appointed  to  be  on  a  bufinefs  of 
importance.  You  would  often  take  him  for  every 
thing  that  he  is  not  *,  for  a  fellow  quite  ftupid,  for  he 
hears  nothing  •,  for  a  fool,  for  he  talks  to  himf^rlf,  and 
has  a  hundred  grimaces  and  motions  with  his  head, 
which  are  altogether  involuntary  ;  for  a  proud  man, 
for  he  lo^ks  full  upon  you,  ana  takes  no  notice  of 
your  iaiuting  him.  Tl>e  truth  of  it  is,  his  eyes  are 
open  but  he  makes  no  ufe  of  them,  and  neither  fees 
you,  nor  any  man,  nor  any  thing  elfe.  He  came  once 
from  his  own  houfe,  and  nis  own  footmen  undertook 
to  rob  him,  and  fucceeded  :  They  held  a  flambeau  to 
his  throat,  and  bid  him  deliver  his  purfe  •,  he  did  fo, 
and  coming  home  told  his  friends  he  had  been  rob- 
bed ;  they  dtfire  to  know  the  particulars  :  ^Jk  my  Jer^ 
tvants,  fays  ./>enalcas,yor  f/iey  ivere  ^ik  me, 

Thefe  blemiihes  proceed  from  a  certain  vivacity 
and  ficklenefs  in  a  man's  temper,  which,  while  it 
raifes  up  infinite  numbers  of  ideas  in  the  mind,  is  con- 
tinually pufliing  it  on,  without  allowing  it  to  rell  on 
any  particular  image,  and  helps  to  keep  up  the  repu- 
tation of  that  Latin  Proverb  which  Mr.  Drjden  has 
tranflated  in  the  following  lines  : 

Great  wit  to  madrefi  fure  is  near  aUiei{\ 
And  thin  partitiQm  ^0  the'r  bounds  divide. 

Spectator,  Vol  I.  No.  77.  X, 


12  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


ABSENCE  OF  LOVERS. 
Mr.  Spe^atory 


T. 


HOUGH  you  have  confidered  virtuous  love  In 
n^ofl  of  its  diftrefies,  1  do  not  remember  that  you  have 
given  us  any  differtation  upon  the  abfence  of  lovers,.^ 
or  laid  dovi'n  any  method  how  they  (hould  fuppo 
thcmfelves  under  thofe  long  reparations  which  they 
are  forced  fometimesto  undergo.  I  am  at  prefent  un- 
der this  unhappy  circumftance,  having  parted  with 
the  bed  of  hulhands,  who  is  abroad  in  the  fervice  of 
his  country;  and  may  not  polCbly  return  for  fome 
years.  His  warm  and  generous  afre6i:ion  v/hile  wc 
were  together,  with  the  tendernefs  which  he  expref- 
fed  to  me  at  parting,  makes  his  abfence  almoit  in- 
fuppor table  :  I  think  of  him  every  moment  in  the 
clay,  and  meet  him  every  night  in  my  dreams.  Every 
thing  I  fee  puts  me  in  mind  of  Iiim  :  I  apply  myfelf 
with  more  than  ordinary  diligence  to  the  care  of  his 
family  and  his  eftate  j  but  this,  inftead  of  relieving 
me,  gives  me  but  fo  m.any  occafions  of  wifliing  for 
his  reiurm  I  frequent  the  room  where  I  ufed  to 
converfe  with  him,  and  not  meeting  him  there^  fit 
down  in  his  chair,  and  fall  a  weeping.  I  love  to 
read  the  books  he  delighted  in,  and  to  converfe  with 
the  perfons  whom  he  efteemed.  I  vifit  his  pi6lure  a 
hundred  times  a  day,  and  place  myfelf  over-againll 
it  whole  hours  together.  I  pafs  a  great  part  of  my 
time  in  the  walks  where  I  ufed  to  lean  upon  his  arm, 
and  recolledt  in  my  mind  the  difcourfes  which  have 
paffed  there  between  us.  I  look  over  the  feveral  prof- 
pe6ls  and  points  of  view  which  we  ufed  to  fuivey  to- 
gether, fix  my  eyes  upon  the  obje(Sls  which  he  has 
made  me  take  noticeof,  and  call  to  mind  a  thoufand 
agreeable  remarks  which  he  has  made  on  thofe 
occafions  :  I  write  to  him  by  every  conveyance, 
a'^.d,  contrary  to  other  people,  am  always  in  good- 
humour  when  an  eaftwind  blows,  becaufe  it  feldom 
fails  of  bringing  me  a  letter  from  him.  Let  meintreat 
you, Sir,  to  give  n*e  your  adviceu  pon  this  occafion,  and 
to  let  me  knov^'  how  I  may  relieve  myfelf  in  this  my 
widowhood.  /  amyoun^  &c,  ASTERIA. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  rj 

Abfence  is  what  the  poets  call  death  in  love,  and 
his  given  occafion  to  abundance  of  beautihil  com- 
plaints in  thofe  authors  who  have  treated  of  tliie.  paf- 
fion  in  vcrfe  :  Ovid's  Epifties  are  foil  of  them  ;  Ot- 
v;  ay's  Mouimia  talks  very  tenderly  upon  this  lubject  : 


-//  'Unas  vet  kind 


To  lea^-je  vif.  like  a  turtle  here  alcn?y 

To  droop  arJ  ncurn  the  abfence  cfmj  mate,  i 

IVhn  then  art  Jrom  me,  every  plate  is  dijart  •; 

J.nd  I,  metbinksy  am  fwvage  and  forlorn. 

Thy  prejence  ^nly  'tis  can  make  me  blejVd^ 

Ileal  my  untjuiet  mindj  and  tune  my  joul. 

The  confolations   of  lovers  on   thefe  occafions  nvc 
rry  extraordinary  ;  befides  thofe  mentioned  by  Afte- 
ria,  there  are  many  otlier  motives  of  comfort  :  I  fliall 
take  notice   of  on?  which  I  have  knov^-n  two  perfons 
praO;ife,  who  joined  religion  to  that  elegance  of  fenti- 
ment   with  which  the    paihon  of  love  generally    in- 
fpires  its  votaries.     This   was,   at  the  return   ot  fuch 
1  an  hour,  to  offer  up  a  certain  prayer  for  each  otlier, 
jf  which  they  had   agreed    upon   before    their  parting. 
•f  The  huiband,  who  makes  a  fij^ure  in  the  polite  world, 
as  well  as  in  his  own  family,  has  often  told   me,   that 
he  could  not  have  fupported  an  abfence  of  three  3"ears 
without  this  expedient. 

Spectator.,  Vol.  III.  No.  141.  C. 


ABSTINENCE. 

V  Ji^  HE  prefervation  of  health  is  temperance,  which,^ 
has  thofe  particular  advantages  above  all  otli(|f  means 
to  attain  it,  that  it  may  be  pradtifed  by  all  r^jki-and 
conditions,  at  any  feafon  or  in  any  place.  It  is  a 
kind  of  regimen,  mto  which  every  man  may  put  him- 
felf  without  interruption  to  bufinefs,  expence  of  m.on- 
ey,  or  lofs  of  time.  If  exercife  throws  off  all 
the  fuperfluities,  temperance  pi  events  them  :  If  ex* 
ercifc   clc:ir3   the   veflels,   temperance   neither  ii.zi^ 

B 


14  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

ates  nor  oyerftralns  them  :  If  excrcife  raiTes  proper 
ferments  in  the  liumours,  and  promotes  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood,  temperance  gives  nature  her  full 
play,  and. enables  her  to  exert  herielf  in  all  her  for.- 
and  vigour  :  if  exercife  diffipates  a  growing  diftem- 
per,  temperance  itarves  it. 

Nature  delights  in  the  moft  plain  and  fimple  diet 
every  animal  but  man  keeps  to  one  diih.  Herbs  ai .. 
the  food  of  this  fpecics,  f.ih  of  that,  and  ilefh  of  the 
third  :  Man  falls  upon  every  tiling  that  comes  in  his 
way  ;  not  the  fmalleft  fruic  or  excrefcence  of  the 
earth,  fcarce  a  berry  or  a  mufln-oom,  can  efcape  him. 
I  would  copy  the  following  rules  of  a  very  eminent 
Fhyfician  :  Make  your  ivhole~repaJl  cut  of  cm  dijh  ;  if  you 
i?iiiulge  in  a  ferond,  a^v  aid  drinking  any  thing  frcng  till  yeu 
haije  finijJied your  meal .:  at  the  fame  time  ahjiain  from  all 
fauces^  at  leajl  Juch  as  are  not  the  mof  plain  and  fm-ple. 
And  in  the  article  of  drinking,  obferve  Sir  V/rliiam 
"Temple's  method,  ^i^.  Ihe  firji  glafs  for  n-.yfclf  the  fecond 
for  my  friendy  the  third  for  good-hu?ncur,  and  the  fourth  for 
mine  enemies. 

It  is  obferved  by  two  or  three  ancient  authors,  that 
-SccrateSi  notv>^ithftanding  he  lived  in  Athens  during  the 
great  Plague,  which  lias  made  fo  much  noife  through-  \ 
out  all  agts,  has  been  celebrated  at  different  times 
by  luch  eminent  hands,  notwithftandinghe  lived  in  the 
■time  of  this  devouring  peililence,  never  caught  the 
lead  infe<9;ion  \  which  thefe  writers  unanimoufly  af- 
cribe  to  that  uninterrupted  temperance  which  he  al- 
ways obferved. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IIL  No.   195. 


ACCOUNTS. 

HEN  a  man  happens  to  break  in  Holland,  they 
£ay  of  him,  that  he  has  not  ke^t  true  accounts.  This  phraie 
perhaps,  among  us,  would  appear  a  foft  or  humour- 
ous way  of  fpeaking  ;  but  with  that  exa<£t  nation,  it 
bears  the  higheft  reproach  ;  for  a  man  to  be  miftaken 
m,  the  calculation  oi  his  ex^ence,  ia  his^  ubiiiij  to  an-« 


ADDIoONIAN  MISCELLANY.  x^ 

fwer  future  demands,  or  to  be  impertinently  fanguine 
in  putting  his  credit  to  too  great  adventure,  are  all  in- 
ftances  of  as  much  infamy,  as  with  gayer  nations  to 
be  faili.Tg  in  courage  or  common  honeily 

Numbers  are  fo  mucli  the  meafure  cf  every  thing  thaf: 
13  valuable,  that  it  is  not  polTible  to  demcnflrate  the 
Aiccefs  of  any  adlion,  or  the  prudence  cf  any  underta« 
iHg  without  them.  When  a  merchant  receives  hl^ 
returns  from  abroad,  he  can  tell  to  a  fhilling,  by  the 
help  of  numbers,  the  profit  or  lofs  of  his  adventure  : 
he  ought  alfo  to  ihew  that  he  had  reaibn  to  make  it, 
eitherYrom  his  own  experience  or  that  of  other  peo- 
ple, or  from  a  reafonable  prefumption  that  hib  return-; 
will  be  fuihcient  to  anfwcr  his  expence  andihazard ;  aiid 
this  is  never  to  be  done  without  the  ikill  of  numbers. 
For  inftance,  if  he  trades  to  Turkey,  he  ought  before- 
hand to  know  the  demand  of  our  man u fa cfures  there, 
as  v/ell  as  of  their  filks  in  England,  and  the  cuRomar 
ry  prices  that  are  given  for  both  in  each  country.  He 
ought  to  have  a  clear  knowledge  of  thcfe  matters  be- 
forehand, that  he  may  prefumc  upon  fullicient  returns 
to  anfwer  the  charge  of  the  cargo  he  Iiad  fitted  out, 
the  freight  and  allurance  out  and  iiome,  the  cuiloms 
to  the  King,  and  thi  intereft  of  his  own  money  ;  and 
befides  all  thefe  expences,  a  reafonable  profit  to  him- 
felf.  Now  where  is  the  fcandal  of  tins  Ikill  ^  The 
merchant  throws  down  no  man's  incJofures,  and 
tramples  upon  no  man's  corn  y  he  takes  nothing  from 
the  induilrious  labourer,  he  pays  the  poor  man  "for  Ids 
work,  he  communicates  his  profit  with  mankind  \  by[ 
the  preparation  of  his  cargo,  and  the  manufadlvre  o£ 
his  returns,  he  furniihes  employment  and  fubliilence 
to  greater  numbers  than  the  richelt  nobleman  ;  and 
eve^n  the  nobleman  is  obliged  to  him  for  finding  out 
foreign  markets  for  the  protluce  of  his  eltate,  and  for 
making  a  great  addition  to  his  rents  i  and  yet  it  is 
certain  that  none  of  all  thefe  things  could  be  done  by 
him  without  the  exercife  of  his  ficill  in  numbers. 

Spectator,  Vol.  m*  No.  174.  T. 


•e(i  ADOISONIA^r  MISCELLANY. 

ACTIONS. 


T. 


HOSE  who  have  fearched  into  human  nature  ob^ 

itrve,  that  nothing  more  iliews  the  nobleneL  of  the 
foiil,  than  that  its  felicity  corififls  i-n  adlion.  Every- 
man has  fuch  an  aclive  principle  in  him,  that  he  wiii 
find  out  fomething  to  employ  himfelf  upon,  in  what- 
e-^er  (late  of  life  he  is  pcftcd.  I  have  heard  of  a  gen- 
tleman who  was  under  clofe  confinement  in  the  Baf- 
fjlh  {tv^n  years  j  during  which  time  he  amufed  him- 
felf in  fcattcring  pins  about  his  chamber,  gathering 
tliem  up.  again^  and  placing  them  in  different  figures 
in  the  arm  of  a  great  chair.  lie  often  told  his  friends 
afterwards,  that  unkfs  he  had  found,  out  this  piece 
ofexercife,  he  verily  believed  that  he  ihould  have 
icfi  his  fenfes. Spectator,  Vol.  II.  No.  ii6.  T. 

Vsc  fhoukl  Gaft  all  our  a£lions  under  the  divifion 
©f  fuch  as  are  in  themfelves  good,  bad,  or  indifferent ; 
and  to  dired:  them  in  fuch  a  m.anner,  that  every 
thing  v/e  do,  may  turn  to  account  at  that  great  day 
^vhen  every  thing  we  have  done  will  be  fet  before  us. 

A  good  intention  joined  to  a  good  a6lion,  gives  it 
its  proper  force  and  efficacy  ;  joined  to  an  evil  aciion, 
extenutes  its  malignity,  and  in  fome  cafes  may  take 
it  wholly  away,  and  joined  to  an  indifferent  action, 
turns  it  to  a  virtwe,  and  makes  it  meritorious,  as  far 
czs  human  actions  can  be  fo. 

In  the  next  place,  to  confider  in  the  fame  manner 
the  influence  of  an  evil  intention  upon  our  actions. 
An  evil  intention  perverts  the  bell  of  a<ftions,  and 
make-  them  in  reality  what  the  fathers  have  termed 
the  virtues  of  the  heathen  world,  fo  many  pining  fins. 
It  deitroys  the  innocence  of  an  indifferent  atiionj  and 
gives  an  evil  action  all  poffible  blacknefs  and  horror  ; 
or,  in  the  emphatical  language  of  Holy  Writ,  makes 
fin  exceeding finfuL 

It  is  then  of  unfpeakable  advantage  to  pofiefs  our 
minds  with  an  habitual  good  intention,  and  to  aim 
?.ll  our  thoughts,  words,  and  actions  at  fome  lauda- 
ble end,  whether  it  be  the  plory  of  cur  Maker,  the 
good  of  mankind,  or  the  bentut  of  our  own   fouls. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  17 

This  is  a  fort  of  thrift  or  good  hufbandry  in  moral 
life,  which  does  not  throw  away  any  fingle  a<Slion, 
but  makes  every  one  go  as  far  as  it  can  ;  it  multi- 
plies the  means  of  falvation,  increafes  the  numb&r  of 
our  virtues,  and  diminidies  that  of  our  vices. 

It  is  this  excellent  frame  of  mind,  this  holy  officiouf- 
nefs,  which  is  recommended  to  us  by  the  -Apoille  in 
that  uncommon  precept,  wherein  he  direfts  us  to  pro- 
pofe  to  ourfelves  the  glory  of  our  Cr^^ator  in  all  oar 
molt  indifferent  acSlions,  n^heiler  njue  eat^  or  drink,  cr 
<wJiatfoeucr  ive  do. 

A  perfon  therefore  v/ho  is  poflefied  with  luch  ?,n  ha- 
bitual good  intention,  as  that  which  I  have  been  here 
fpeaking  of,  enters  upon  no  fingle  circumflance  of 
life  without  confidering  it  as  well  pleafing  to  the  great 
Author  of  his  Being,  conformable  to  the  di£lates  of 
reafon,  fuitable  to  human  nature  in  general,  or  to  that 
particular  ftation  in  which  Providence  has  placed 
him.  He  lives  in  a  perpetual  fenfe  of  the  divide 
prefence,  regards  himfelf  as  ailing  in  the  whole 
courfe  of  his  exiftence  under  the  obllrvation  and  in- 
fpecSlion  of  that  Being  who  is  privy  to  all  his  motions 
and  all  his  thoughts,  who  knows  his  donx:n-fitting  and 
his  uprifingy  nuho  is  about  his  parky  and  about  his  bed,  and 
/pieth  out  all  his  ixjays.  In  a  word,  he  remembereth  that 
the  eye  of  his  Judge  is  always  upon  him  ;  and  in 
every  adion  he  rcfleds,  that  he  is  doing  what  is  com- 
manded or  allowed  by  him  who  will  hereafter  le- 
ward  or  punifii  it :  this  Avas  the  character  of  thole 
holy  men  of  old,  who  in  that  beautiful  phrafe  in  fcrip- 
ture  are  faid  to  have  ^c'jalked  ri>jith  Gcd 

There  is  an  excellent  fpeech  oi Socrates-,  This  great 
philofopher,  on  the  day  of  his  execution,  a  little  bc-< 
fore  the  draught  of  poifon  was  brought  to  him,  en- 
tertaining his  friends  with  a  difcourfe  on  the  imm.or- 
tality  of  the  foul,  has  theie  v/ords : — Whether  or  not 
God  Will  appro've  of  my  actions,  I  hto-iv  not',  hut  this  1  am 
Jure  ojy  that  I  have  at  all  times  nuide  it  my  endeavour  to 
pleafe  him,  and  I  haise  a  good  Jiope  that  this  tn;i  endeai^our  - 
ixill  he  accepted  by  him.  We  find  in  thefe  words  of  that 
great  man,  the  habitual  good  intenicn  whigh  I  v/ould 
A   2 


i8  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

here  inculcate,  and  with  which  that  divine  philc^- 
pher  always  adcd.  I  (hall  only  add,  that  Erofmus^ 
who  was  an  unbigoted  Roman- Catholic,  was  fo 
much  tranfported  with  this  palTiige  of  Socrates,  that  he 
could  fcarce  forbear  looking  upon  him  as  a  Saint,  and 
defiring  him  to  pray  for  him,  or  as  that  learned  and 
ingenious  writer  has  exprelTed  himfelf  in  a  much 
more  lively  manrer  :  When  I  reflect:  on  fuch  a  fpeech 
pronounced  by  fuch  a  perfon,  I  can  hardly  forbear 
crying  out,  San^e  Socrates,  ora  pro  nobis  :  O  holy  So- 
crates^ P^^y  ^or  US. 

Spectator,  Vol.  III.  No.  213..  L. 


ADVICE. 

HERE  is  nothing  which  we  receive  with  fo  much 
yeiu6lance  as  advice.  We  look  upon  the  man  who 
gives  it  us,  as  cffc;ring  an  affront  to  our  underftanding, 
and  treating  us  like  children  or  idiots.  There  is  noth- 
ing fo  difficult  as  the  art  of  making  advice  agreeable  : 
the  pens  of  the  ancients  and  moderns  have  been  ex- 
crcifed  upon  this  occafion.  How  many  devices  have 
been  made  ufe  of  to  render  this  bitter  potion  palata- 
ble I  Some  convey  their  inflrucSlion  to  us  in  the  bed 
chofen  words,  others  in  the  moil  harmonious  num- 
bers ;  fome  in  points  of  wit,  and  others  in  fliort  pro- 
verbs. 

But  among  all  the  different  ways  of  giving  counfel, 
that  which  pleafes  the  mod  univerfally,  is  Fable  -,  it 
excels  all  others,  bccaufe  it  is  the  le^aft  (hocking,  and 
therefore  the  mod  delicate.  This  will  appear,  if  we 
refle6l;,  that  upon  the  reading  of  a  Fable,  we  are  made 
to  believe  we  advife  ourfelves  :  We  perufe  the  au- 
thor for  the  fake  of  the  ftory,  and  ccnfider  the  pre- 
cepts rather  as  our  own  conclufions  than  his  inflr ac- 
tions. This  is  confirmed  by  the  examples  of  the 
wife  men  of  old,  who  chofe  to  give  counfel  to  their 
|?tinces  in  this  method  ;  an  inftance  of  which  we  havQ 
jpL  a  Turkiih  Tale,  which  iiifprms  us^  that  the  Sultaa 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  19 

Mahamoud,  by  his  perpetual  wars  abroad,  and  his  ty- 
ranny at  home,  had  iillt'd  his  dominions  with  ruin 
and  defolation,  and  half  unpeopled  the  Perfian  Em- 
pire. The  Vifier  to  this  great  Sultan  pretended  to 
have  learned  of  a  certain  Dervife,  to  underftand  the 
language  of  birds,  fo  that  there  was  not  a  bird  that 
could  open  liis  mouth,  but  the  Vifier  knew  what  it 
faid.  As  he  was  one  evening  with  the  Empe- 
fror,  in  their  return  from  hunting,  they  faw  a  couple 
'  of  owls  upon  a  tree  that  grew  near  an  old  wall  out  of 
a  heap  of  rubbifh.  I  would  fain  know,  fays  the  Sul- 
tan, what  thefe  two  owls  are  faying  to  one  another ; 
liften  to  their  difcourfe,  and  give  me  an  account  of  it. 
i'lie  Vifier  approached  the  tree,  pretending  to  be  very 
attentive  to  tl:ie  two  owls.  Upon  his  return  to  the 
Sultan — Sir,  fays  he,  I.h^ve  heard  part  of  their  con- 
verfation,  but  dare  not  tell  you  what  it  is.  The  Sul- 
tan would  not  be  fatisfied  with  fuch  an  anfwer,  but.' 
'  forced  him  to  repeat,  word,  for  word,  every  thing  the 
owls  had  fiiid.  You  mufl  know  then,  faid  the  Vifier, 
that  one  of  thefe  owls  has  a  Son,  and  the  other  a 
Daughter,  between  whom  they  are  now  upon  a  trea-. 
ty  ot  marriage.  The  father  of  the  fon  faid  to  the  fa- 
ther of  the  daughter,  in  my  hearing,  brother  I  con- 
fent  to  this  marriage,  provided  you  will  fettle  upon 
your  daughter  fifty  ruined  Villages  for  her  portion. 
To  which  the  father  of  the  daughter  replied,  inftead 
,  of  fifty,  r  will  give  her  live  hundred,  if ''a^'u  pleafe. , 
'  God  grant  a  long  life  to  Sultan  Mahamoud\  whiHl  he 
reigns  over  us,  we  fliall  never  want  ruined  Villages. 

The  flory  fays,  the  Sultan  was  {o  touched  with  the 
Fable,  that  he  rebuilt  the  towns  and  villages  which 
had  been  deflroyed,  and  from  that  time  forward  coii- 
fulted  the  good  of  his  people. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VII.  No.  512,  O^, 


p. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


ADVERSITY. 


LATO  exprefles  his  abhorrence  of  fbme  Fables  of 
the  Poets,   which  feem  to   reflect  on  the  gods  as  the 
authors  of  Injultice  ;  and  lays  it  down  as  a  principle, 
that    whatever  is    permitted    to   befall    a  juft   man, 
whether    poverty,    llcknefs   qr   any  of  thofe   things 
which  feem  to  be  evils,   {hall   either  in  life  or  death 
conduce  to  his  good,     My   reader  will   obferve  how 
agreeable  this  maxim  is  to  what  we  (ind  delivered  by 
a  greater  authority.     Seneca  has   written  a    difcourfe 
purpofeiy  on  this  fubjecl,  in  which  he  takes  pains,  af- 
ter the  doctrine  of  the  Stoicks,   to  fhew  that  adverfi- 
ty  is  not  in  itfelf  an  Evil;  and  mentions  a  noble  fay-   '■] 
ing  of  Demetrius,   that   nothing  would  be  more  un- 
happy than  a  man  who  had   never  known  afili£lion  : 
He  compares   Profperity  to  the  indulgence  of  a  fond  - 
mother  to  a  child,  v/hich  often  proves  its  ruin  j  but 
the  affecSrion- of  the  divine  Being,  to  that   of  a   wife/ 
father,    who  would  have, his  fons  exercifed  with  hard- 
labour,  difappointm.ent,  and  pain,  that  they  may  gath- 
er ftrength  and  improve  their  fortitude.     On  this  oc- 
cafion  tne  Philofopher  rifes  into  that  celebrated  fen- 
timent,  that   there    is  not  on  earth  a  fpedlacle  more : 
worthy  the   regard  of  a   Creator  intent  on  his  works,- 
than  a  brave  man  fuperior  to  his  fufferings  ;  to  which . 
he  adds5"^iat  it  muft  be  a  pleafure  to  Jupiter  himfelf, , 
to  look  down  from    Heaven,  and  fee  Cato  amid   the 
ruins  of  his  country  preferving  his  integrity. 

Spectator,  Vol.  III.  No.  237. .. 

When  the  mind  has  been  perplexed    with  anxious  ; 
cares  and  pafiions,  the  bed  method   of  bringing   it  to  . 
its  ufual  ftate  of  tranquility,  is,  as  much  as  we  poffibly 
can,  to  turn  our  thoughts  to  the    adverfities   of  per-* 
fons  of  higher  confideration  in  virtue  and  merit  than 
ourfelves.     By  this   means,   all  the  little  incidents  of 
our  own  lives,  if  they  are  unfortunate,  feem  to  be  the 
effect  of   Juftice   upon  our  faults   and   indifcretions.,. 
Wheii  thofe  whom  we  know  to  be  escellcnj:  andde-^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  21 

fervlng  of  a  better  fate,  are  wretched,  we  cannot  but  re- 
Cgn  ourfelves,  when  mod  of  us  know  that  we  merit  a 
much  worfe  fate  than  that  we  arc  placed  in.  For  fuch, 
and  many  other  occafions,  there  ii  one  admirable  re- 
lation wliich  one  might  recommend  for  certain  peri- 
ods of  one's  life,  to  touch,  comfort,  and  improve  the 
heart  of  man.  Tully  fays  fomewhere,  the  plcafures  of 
a  liufbandman  are  next  to  thofe  of  a  philofopher.  In 
like  manner,  one  may  fay,  the  pleafures  of  humanity 
arc  next  to  thofe  of  devotion.  In  both  thefe  latter 
fatisfa6lions,  there  is  a  certain  humiliation  which  ex- 
aits  the  foul  above  its  ordinary  ftate  ;  at  the  fame 
time  that  it  lefTens  the  value  of  ourfelves,  it  enlarges 
cur  cfliniation  of  others. 

Tatllr,  Vol.  IV.  No.  233. 


ADVERTISEMENTS. 

For  the  Good  of  the  Public. 

\VlTHINtwo  doors  of  the  Mafquerade  Houfe 
'lives  an  eminent  Jtjlian  Chirurgeon,  arrived  from  the 
Carnival  of  Venice,  of  great  experience  in  private 
cures.  Accommodations  are  provided,  and  perfons 
admitted  in  their  Malking  habits. 

He  has  cured  iincc  his  coming  hither,  in  lefs  than  a 
fortnight,  four  Scaramouches,  a  Mountebank  Doctor, 
.two  Turkijh  BafTas,  three  Nuns,  and  a  Morris  dan- 
cer. 

Fenienti  occurrile  Morlo. 
N.  B.   Any  pi;;fon  may  agree  by  the  great,  and  be 
kept  in  repair  by  the  year,      ihe  Doctor  draws  teeth 
without  pulling  off  your  mafK:. 

Spectator,  Vol.  I.  No.  22.  T. 


J.  O  prevent  all  mifcakes  that  may  happen  among 
gentlemen  of  the  other  end  of  the  town,  who  come 
but  once  a  week  to  St.  James's  Coffec-Houfe,  either 


22  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  | 

by  mifcalling  the  feivants,  or  requiring  fuch  things  of 
them  as  are  not  properly  within  their  refpeclive  pro- 
vinces, this  is  to  give  notice,  that  Kidney^  keeper  of 
the  book-debts  of  the  out-lying  cuilomers,  and  ob- 
fervcr  of  thofe  who  go  oif  without  p^^yirrg,  having  re- 
figned  that  employment,  is  fucceeded  bv  ^okyi  Bonxi- 
don ;  to  whofe  place  of  enterer  of  meiTages,  and  hrft.* 
cotiee-grinder,  William  Bird  is  promoted  ;  and  Samuel 
Burdock  comes  as  Ihoe-cieaner  in  the  room  of  the  faid 
Bird, 

Spectat'or,  Vol.  I.  No.  24,  R. 


A 


Widow  gentlewoman,  well  born  both  by  father  «' 

and  mother's  fide,  bein^^    the  daughter  of  'Xhomas  \ 
Prater,  once  an  eminent  Practitioner  in  the  Law,  and  | 
of  Letitia  Tattle,  a  family  well  known  in  all  parts  of  | 
this  kingdom^  having  been  reduced  by  misfoitunes   o  ? 
wait  on  fevera.  great  peribns,  and  for  fome  time  to  be   j 
teacher  at  a  boarding-fchool  of  young  ladies,   giveth   ' 
notice  to  the  public,  that  ine  hath  lately  taken  a  hoafe   : 
near  Bloomfbary-fqunre,  ccriimodioufiy  fituated  next   j 
the  Fields,  in  a  good  air,  where  ihe  teaches  all  forts  of  i 
birds    of  tlie  loquacious   kinds,   as  parrots,  ftarlings,    \ 
magpies,    and   others,  to   imitate    human    voices    in^  1 
greater  perfection  than  ever  yet  was  pra6tifed.    They,,  j 
are  not  only  inftrucled  to  pronounce  words  diftin£tly,    \ 
and  iu  a  proper  tone  and  accent,  but  to  fpeak  the  Ian-    : 
guage  with  great  purity  and  volubility  of  tongue  ;  to-    ■ 
gether   with  all  the   fa-Tnionabie  phrafes  and  compli-    \ 
nients  now  in  ufe  eicher  at  tea-tables  or  viiiting-days. 
Thofe  that  have  good  voices,  may  bi  taught  to  fipg  the 
neweil  Opera  airs,  and,   if  required,    to    fpeak  eiiher 
Italian  or   French,   paying  fomething  above  the  com- 
mon rates:  They  whole  friends  are  not  able  to  pay  the 
full  prices,  maybe  taken  as  half-boarders.  She  teacli- 
es  fuch  as  are  defigjned  for  the  diverfion  of  the  public, 
and  to   acl  in  enchanted    woods  on   the  theatres,  by 
the  great.     As    Ihe  has    often  obferved   with    much 
concern  how  indecent  an  education  is  ufuaily  given; 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  23 

iht(c  innocent  creatures,  which,  in  fome  mearure,  is 
owing  to  their  being  placed  in  open  rooms  next  the 
flreet,  where,  to  the  gredt  offence  of  chafie  and  ten- 
der ears,  they  Jcarn  nl)rhiry,  obfcene  fongs,  and  im- 
•modeft  expreflions,  from  paficngers  and  idle  people ; 
•as  alfo  to  cry  (iih  and  cardm-citches,  with  other  ufe- 
lefs  parts  of  learning,  to  birds  who  have  rich 
friends  ;  (he  has  lilted  up  proper  and  neat  apartments 
for  them  in  the  back  part  of  her  faid  houfe,  wh.ere  fhe 
fuffers  none  to  approach  them  but  iierfelf,  and  a  fer- 
vant  maid,  vvho  is  deaf  and  dumb,  and  whom  (}?e  pro- 
vided on  purpofe  to   prepare    their   food    and  cieanfe 

'  their  cages  ;  having  fcuiid,  by  long  experience,  liow 
hard  a  thing  it  is  for  thofe  to  keep  filence  who  have 
the  ufe  of  {peech,  and  the  dangers  her  feholars  are 
expofed  to  by  the  ftrong  impreliions  that  are  made  by 
harih  founds  and  vulgar  di'rik£ls.  In  Ihort,  if  they 
are  birds  of  any  parts  or  capacity,  flie  will  undertake 
to  render  them  fo  accompliihed  in  the  compafs  of  a 
twelvemonih,  that  they  (hail   be   fit  converfation  for 

'  fuch  ladies    as   love  to  choofe  their  friends  and  com- 

f  anions  out  c>f  this  fpecies. 
Spectator,  VoL  I.  No.  36.  R. 


'"A 


Young  gentlewoman,    about  nineteen  years  of 

^age  (bred  in  rlic  family  of  a   perfon   of  quality  lately 

'^eceafed)    who   paints  the  finell  J^'i/^   colour,  wants  a 

'place,  and  is  to  be  heard  of  at   the   houfe  of  Mjnkeer 

^rotefqiicy  a  Dutch  painter  in  Barbican. 

N.  B.  She  is  alfo  well  flcilled  in  the  drapery  part, 
and  puts  on  hoods,  and  mix?s  ribbons  fo  as  to  fuit 
the  colours  of  the  face,  with  great  art  and  fuccefs. 

JSpectator,  VoL  1.  No.  41.  R* 


24  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

V\y  HEREAS  Mr.   Bkkerfiof,  by  a  letter,  has  re-  \ 

ceived  information,  that  there  are  aDout  the  Royal  Ex-  "'\ 

change, 2i  fort  of  people  commonly  known  by  the  name  j 

of /F;6/?^/irrx,  who  drink  themfelves  into  an  intermedi-  j 

ate  ftate  of  being  neither  <irunk  nor  fober,  before  the  •: 

hours  of  exchange  or  biifinefs  ;  and  in  that  condition  ! 

buy  and  fell  ilocks,  difcount  notes,  and  do  many  oth-  ■ 

er  acls  of  well-difpofed  citizens  :'  This  is   to  give  no-  j 

tice,  that   iVoni   this  day  forward,  no  Whetter  f]\all  be  j 

.able  to  give  or  endorfe  any  note,  or  execute  any  other  : 

point     of     commerce,    after    the     third    half    pint  i 

before   the   hour  of  one;  and  whoever  fliall  tranfa£t  ! 

any  matter  or  matters  with   a  Whetter  (not  being  him-  i 

felf   of  that   order)    (hall   be   conducted  to  McorfieUs^  \ 
upon  the  hril  application  of  his  next  akin, 

N.  B.  No  Tavern   near   the  Exchange  flial!  deiire-r  I 

v/ine  to  fuch  as  drink  at  the  bar  flanding,  except  the  ' 

fame  (hall  be  three  parts  of  the  beft  cyder  j  and   the  | 

mailer  of  the  houfe  wall  produce  a  certificate  of  the  ! 
fame  from  I^Ir.  Tintoret,  or  fome  other  credible  wine 
painter. 


w. 


HEREAS  the  model  of  the  intended  Bedlam  h 
now  finilhed,  and  the  edifice  ittelf  \viil  be  very  fud^ 
denly  begun,  and  it  is  defired  that  all  fuch  as  have  re- 
lations whom  they  would  re<:ommend  to  our  care, 
would  bring  in  their  proofs  with  all  fpeed ;  none 
to  be  admitted  of  courfe  but  lovers,  who  are  put 
into-  an  immediate  Regimer.  Young  politicians  are 
alfo   received  without  fees  or  examination. 

Tatler,  Vol.  III.  No.  13&. 


JL  KE  Cenfor  having  obferved,  that  there  are  fine 
wrought  Laches  fhoes  and  flippers  put  out  to  view  at 
a  great  Shoemaker's  ihop  towards  St.  James's,  whlck 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ^^. 

create  irregular  thoughts  and  defircs  in  the  yoiuh  o£ 
this  town  ;  the  faid  ihop-keeper  is  required  to  take  ift« 
thofe  eye-fores,  or  ihew  caufc,  the  next  court-day, 
whv  he  contiinies  to  expofe  the  fame  ;  and  he  is  re- 
quired to  be  prepared  particularly  to  anfwcr  to  the 
Hippeis  with  gvecn  lace  and  blue  heels. 

1'atllk,  Vol.  III.  No.   143. 


W) 


HEREAS  th.e  fevcral  church-warden?;  of  mod: 
of  the  parilhes  witliin  the  bill  of  mortality  ha\e,iR 
an  earnetl  manner,  applied  themfelves  by  way  of  pe- 
tition, and  have  alfo  made  a  prefentment  of  the  vain 
and  loofe  deportment,  during  divine  fervicc,  of  perfons 
of  too  great  figure  in  all  their  faid  pariflies  for  their 
reproof :  and  wlicreas  it  is  therein  fet  forth  that  by 
falutation  given  eacli  other,  hints  fhrugs,  ogles, 
playing  of  fans,  fooling  with  canes  at  their  mouth, 
and  other  wanton  gefticulations,  their  whole  congre- 
gation appears  rather  a  theatrical  audience  than  a 
place  of  devotion  :  It  is  hereby  ordered,  th.at  all  canes, 
cravats,  bofom  laces,  mufTs,  fans,  fnufT-boxes,  and  all 
other  inftruments  made  ufe  of  to  give  perfons  unbe- 
coming airs,  fi^all  be  immediately  forfeited  and  fold; 
and  of  the  fum  arifing  from  the  fale  thereof,  a  ninth 
part  fliali  be  paid  to  the  poor,  and  the  reft  to  the  over- 
leers. 

Tatlek,  Vol.  III.  No.   166. 


For  the  Benefit  cf  ?ny  Female  Readers, 

Jl  HIS  ferves  to  inform  them,  that  the  gilt  chariot, 
the  diamond  ring,  the  ^old  fnuiT-box,  and  brocade 
fword-knot,  are  no  efiential  part  of  a  fine  gentleman  ; 
but  may  be  ufed  by  him,  provided  he  calls  his  eyes 
upon  them  but  once  a  day. 

GUATIDIAN,   Vol.    L    No.    54. 


5^  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

ADULTERERS. 

jr\  DULTERERS  in  the  firft  ages  of  the  church 
vere  excommunicated  forever,  and  unqualified  all 
.their  lives  from  bearing  a  part  in  Chriftian  aflemblies  j 
notwithftanding  they  might  feek  it  with,  tears,  and 
.all  appearance  of  the  moft  unfeigned  repentance. 

Spectator,  Vol.  Vlll.  No.  579. 


A 


AFFECTATION. 


Late  converfation  which  I  l^ell  into,  gave  me  an 
opportunity  of  obferving  a  great  deal  of  beauty  in  a 
X'ery  handfome  women,  and  as  much  wit  in  an  ingen- 
ious man,  turned  into  deformitv  in  the  one  and  ab- 
furdity  in  the  other,  by  the  mere  force  of  affectation. 
The  fair  one  had  fom.ething  in  her  perfon,  upon  which  . 
her  thoughts  were  fixed,  that  fhe  attempted  to  fnew 
to  advantage  in  every  look,  word,  and  gefture.  The 
gentleman  was  as  diligent  to  do  juftice  to  his  fine 
parts,  as  the  lady  to  her  beauteous  form.  You  m.ight 
fee  his  imagination  on  the  ftrength  to  find  out  fome- 
thing  uncommon,  and  what  they  call  bright,  to  en- 
tertain her,  while  fhe  v/rithed  nerfelf  into  as  many 
different  poflures  to  engage  him.  When  flie  laugh- 
ed, her  lips  were  to  fever  at  a  greater  diftance  than 
ordinary,  to  (hew  her  teeth  ;  her  fan  was  to  point 
at  fomev/hat  at  a  diftance,  that  in  the  reach  fhe  may 
difcoyer  the  roundnefs  of  her  arm  ;  then  fhe  is  utter- 
ly miflakcn  in  what  flie  faw,  falls  back,  fmiles  at  her 
own  foliy,  and  is  fo  wholly  difcompofed,  that  her 
tucker  is  to  be  adjufled,  her  bofom  expofed,  and  the 
whole  woman  put' into  new  airs  and  graces.  While 
ftie  was  doing  all  this,  the  gallant  had  time  to  think  of 
fomething  very  pleafant  to  fay  next  to  her,  or  make 
feme  unkind  observation  on  fome  other  lady,  to  feed 
her  vanity.  Thefe  unhappy  effects  of  affedlation  na- 
tiwraily  lead  to  that  ftrange  ilate   of  mind,  which  fo 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  27 

generally  difcolours  the  behaviour  of  moft  people  we 
meet  with. 

But  this  apparent  aiFeclation,  rrifing  from  ill- 
governed  confcioufnefs,  is  not  fo  much  to  be  wonder- 
ed at  in  fuch  loofe  and  trivial  minds  as  tliele  •,  but 
when  you  fee  it  in  charaders  of  worth  and  diilinc- 
tion,  it  is  what  you  cannot  but  lament ;  it  creeps  in- 
to  the  heart  of  the  wife  man  as  well  as  that  of  the 
coxcomb.  The  bed  way  to  get  clear  of  fuch  a  light 
fondnefs  for  applaufe,  is  to  take  all  poihble  care  to 
throw  off  the  love  of  it  upon  occafions  that  are  not  in 
themfelves  laudable  \  of  this  nature  are  all  graces  in 
men's  perfons,  drefs  and  bodily  deportment,  which 
will  be  naturally  winning  and  attractive,  if  we  think 
not  of  them,  but  lofe  their  force  in  proportion  to  our 
endeavour  to  make  them  fuch. 

It  is  only  from  a  thorough  difregard  to  himfelf  in 
fuch  particulars,  that  a  m.an  can  a6t  with  a  laudable 
fuiiiciency  ;  his  heart  is  fixed  upon  one  point  in  view, 
and  he  commits  no  errors,  becaufe  he  thinks  nothing 
an  error  but  what  deviates  from  that  intention. 

The  wild  havcck  affectation  makes  in  that  part  of  ^ 
the  world  which  fhould  be  moil  polite,  is  vifible  :  It  * 
pu{hes  men  not  only  into  impertinences  in  converfa- 
tion,  but  aUb  in  their  premeditated  fpeeches^  at  the 
bar  it  torments  the  bench,  and  often  afcends  the  pul- 
pit itfelf ;  and  the  declaimev  is  frequently  fo  im.per- 
tine*tly  witty,  fpeaks  of  the  lad  day  with  fo  many 
quaint  phrafes,  that  there  is  no  man  who  underltands 
raillery,  but  muii^efolve  to  fm  no  more-,  nay,  you 
'Kiay  behold  him  fometimes  in  prayer,  for  a  proper 
delivery  of  the  great  truths  he  his  to  utter,  humble 
himfelf  witii  fo  well-turned  a  phrafe,  and  mention  his 
own  unworthinefs  in  a  way  fo  very  becoming,  that 
the  air  of  the  pretty  gentleman  is  preferved  under  the 
lowlinefs  of  the  preacher.  I  fliall  end  this  with  a 
(hort  letter  I  wrr^te  the  other  day  to  a  very  v.  lUy  man^ 
0,ver-run  v/itn  the  fault  I  am  fpeaking  of. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


I 


Dear  Sir^ 


fpent  fome  time  wrth  you  the  other  day,  and  rmift 
take  the  liberty  of  a  fiiend  to  tell  yen  of  tnc  unfulfer- 
abls  aftc£l:ation  you  are  guilty  of  in  all  you  fay  and 
Ao.  When  i  gave  you  a  hint  of  it,  you  afked  me 
whether  a  man  is  to  be  cold  to  what  his  friends  think 
ef  him  ?  No  ;  but  praife  is  not  to  be  the  entertain- 
ment of  every  moment  :  he  that  hopes  for  it  muft  be 
abl(i'  to  fufpcnd  the  poflelTion  of  it,  till  proper  peri- 
ods of  life,  or  death  itftlf;  if  you  fhould  not  rather 
be  commended  than  be  praife-worthy,  contemn  little 
iTierits,  and  allow  no  man  to  be  fo  free  with  you  as 
to  praife  you  to  your  face.  Your  Vanity  by  this 
means  will  want  its  food.  At  the  fame  time  your 
paflion  for  efteem  will  be  more  fully  gratified,  men 
will  praife  you  in  their  a6tions  •,  where  you  now  re- 
ceive one  compliment,  you  will  then  receive  twenty  ci- 
vilities y  till  then  you  will  never  have  of  either  farther 
than^  Sir,  your  humble  Servant. 

Spectator,  Vol.  I.  No.  38.  R. 

The  great  misfortune  of  afFe£lation  is,  that  men 
sot  only  lofs  a  good  quality,  but  alfo  contrail  a  bad 
one.  They  not  only  are  unfit  for  what  they  were 
dtfigned,  but  they  aitign  themfelvis  to  what  they  are 
unfit  for  •,  and,  inftcalof  making  a  very  good  figure 
one  way?  make  a  very  ridiculous  one  another,  if 
Seu.antle  would  have  been  fatisfied  with  her  natural 
complexion,  fhe  might  {till  have  been  celebrated  by 
the  name  of  the  olive-beauty  \  but  Semantha  has  ta- 
ken up  an  afre6tation  to  white  and  red,  and  is  now 
(ii{ti?i:iuiihed  by  the  character  of  the  lady  that  paints  S 
well.  ^  In  a  word,  could  the  world  be  reformed  to  the  J; 
i^iViVzCi.(S\0::itc,  folloiv  nature,  which  the  oracle  of  Del-  fi 
thos  pronounced  to  Cicero,  when  he  confulted  what 
CGurfe  of  ftudies  he  fhould  purfue,  wp  flrould  fee 
almoft  every  man  as  enainent  in  his  proper 
inhere,  as  Tully  was  in  his ;  and  fhould  in  a  very 
jjhort  time  find  impertinence  and  affectation  banifhecl 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  29 

from    among  the  women,    and  coxcombs   and  falfe 

characters    from    among   the    men. .    For  my  part  I 

could  never  confider  this  prepofterous  repugnancy  to 

nature   aiiy  otherwiie,    than  liot  only  as   the  greated 

folly,  but  alfo  one  of  the  moif  henious  crimes,  fincc  it 

a  dire6l  oppodtion  to  the  difpofition  of  Providence, 

id  (as  7W/>'.exprjsfles  it)  like  the  fm  cf  the  giants,  an 

tuai  rebellion  againft  Heaven. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VI.  No.  404. . 


AFFECTIONS. 

'^V  HEN  labour  v^^a?  pronounced  to  be  the  portion 
of  men,  that  docwn  reached   the  affeclion  of   his  mind 
a>.  well  as  his  perfon  ;  the  matter  on  which  he  was  to 
-cd,  and  all  the  animal  and  vegetable  world  about 
rAi.     There  is  therefore  an  aiPuiuous  care  and  culti- 
:tion  to  be  beflowed    upon  our  pafiions  and  affec- 
.iLi.ns  5  for  they  arc  the  excrefcences  of  our  fouls,  like 
•urhair  and  beards,  look  horrid  or   becoming,  as  we 
.  iv.i  or  let  them  grow.       This  may  be  accounted  for. 
'  in  the  behaviour  of  Duum^vir,  the  hufband  and    keep- 
,     Ten  thoufand  follies  had  this   unhappy,  man  ef- 
.-ned,  had  he  made  a  compa£l  with  himfelf  to  be  up- 
j^  on  his  guard,  and    net  permitted  his  vagrant  eye  to 
Irt  in  fo  many  different  inclinations  upon  him,  as  alJ 
:.  days  he  has  been  perplexed  with  *,  but   indeed,  at 
.|.iCfent,  he  has  brought  himfelf  to  be  confined  only  to 
•  rone  prevailing  miftrefs,  between  whom  and  his  wife, , 
•^Duutn^ir  paiTes  his  hours  in  all  the  vicifhtudcs  which 
,, attend  pafh^n  and  afFe6i:ion,  without  the  intervention 
•,  of  reafon, — i,^ttr«  his  wife  and  Phiilis  his  miflrefs,  are 
r.,  all  with  whom  he  has  had,  for  fome  months,  the  leaft. 
amorous  commerce.     Duum^virhviS  pafied  the  noon  of 
.Jife.  but  cannot  withdraw  from   thofe  entertainments  ■ 
which  are  pardonable  only  before  the  ffcage-of  our  be- 
ing, and  which   after  that   feafon  are  rather  punifh- 
ments  th-.m  fatisfadions  ;  for  a  palled  appetite  is  hu- 
mourous,  and  muft  be   gratified    with    fauces    rather 
•than food.     For  which  end  Duumvir  j§  prgyidevl  with ' 
C  2 . 


30  ADDISONIAN  M!SGELLANY. 

^  haughty,  imperious,  ex-pen  five,  and  fantaftic  mif- 
trefs  ;  to  wliom  he  retires  from  the  converfation  of 
^n  affable,  hunible,  difcreet  and  airectionate  wife. 
Laura  receives  him,  after  abfence,  with  an  eafy  and 
iinaffecled  complacency  ;  but  that  he  calls  inilpid  ; 
Phillis  rates  him  for  his  abfence,  and  bids  him  re- 
turn from  whence  he  came  :  ^this  he  calls  fpirit  and 
iire.  Laura's  gentlcnefs  is  thought  mean,  Fheiliss  in- 
folence  fprightly.  Were  you  to  fee  him  ac  his  own 
home,  and  his  miftrefs's  lodgings  j  to  Phiilis  he  ap- 
pears an  obfequious  lover,  to  Laura  an  imperious  maf« 
ter.  ^        • 

Nay,  fo  unjuft  is  the  t  a  fie  of  Duu7n^jh\  tha"  he  owns 
ILaura  has  no  ill  qualiiy,  but  that  Ihe  is  his  wife  ; 
Plillis  r\o  good  one,  but  that  (lie  is  his  miftrefs;  and 
he  himfelf  has  often  faijj,  were  he  marrieil  to  any  one 
(Ziic^  he  would  rather  kc^^aura  than  any  woman  liv- 
ing 5  yet  allow  at  the  fam(?^me,"that  PhiUis^  v/ere  (he 
-a  woman  of  honour,  woalcl,.^||^e  been  the  moft,  infip- 
jd  animisl  breathing.  In  a  word  the  affetSfionate  part 
of.  his  heart  being  corrupted,. i^id  his  true  tafte  that 
way  wholly  lollj  he  has  contracted  a  prejudice  to  all 
the  behaviour  of  Luura.^  and  a  general  partiality  in  fa- 
vour of  Philiis.  There  is  fomething  too  melancholy 
in  this  circumflance  to  be  the  fubjed  of  raillery. 

Tatler,  Vol.  II.  No.  54, 


AFFLICTION. 

\  RUE  afSic^ion  labours  to  be  invllible  5  k  is  a 
ftranger  to  ceremony,  and  bears  in  its  own  nature  a 
dignity  much  above  the  little  civcumftances  which, are 
affcded.  under  the  noiion  of  decency. 

Steciatorj  Vol.  II.  No.  95.  L. 

It  would  be  eiidlefs  to  enumerate  th^  fantaftlcal 
afni£l ions  that  dilturb  mankind  ;  but  as  a  mifery  is. 
wot  to  be  meafured  from  the  nature  of  an  evil,  feut 
6-om  the  temper  of  the  fufFerer,  I  (hall  prefent  my 
X^adersj  v/hc  aie  unhappy  either  in  reality  or  ini?,£ia?.. 


ADDISONrAN  ISIISCELLANY.  3Jt 

ation,  with  an  Allegory  which  Homer  has  fuggefted  to 
me. 

When  Jupiter  took  into  his  hands  the  government 
of  the  world,  the  fcverfd  parts  of  nature,  with  the  pre* 
iiding  Deities,  did.honrage  to  him  ;  one  pvciented  him 
witn  a  mountain  of  winds,  another  with  a  magazine 
of  hail,  and  a  third  witi?  a  pile  of  thunderholts.  The 
ihn's  cllered  up  their  mfiuences,  tlie  accan  gave  in  his 
vrident,  the  earth  her  fruits,  and  the  fun  his  feafons. 
Among  the  fevcral  Deities  v/ho  came  to  make  their 
couit  on  this  occalion,  the  Dejhmes  advanced  with 
two  great  tuns  carried  before  them,  one  of  which  they 
fixed  on  the  riglit  hand  of  Jupiter,  as  he  fat  upoji  his 
throne,  and  the  other  on  his  left  ;  the  flrft  was  filled 
wiih  ail  tJie  bicilings,  and  the  other  with  ail  the  ca- 
lamities of  human  life.  Jupiicry  in  the  beginning  of 
his  reign,  (i:iding  the  world  much  more  innocent  tlian^ 
it  is  in  this  iron  age.  poured  very  plentifully  out  of 
the  tun  that  Hood  at  his- right  hand  ;  but,  as  man- 
kind degenerated,  and  became  unwortliy  of  his  bkf-n 
fnigs,  he  fet  abroach  the  otlier  veflel,  that  filled  tiie 
world  with  pain  and  poverty,  battles  and  diftemptrs, 
jeaioufy  and  falfehood,  intoxicatmg  pleafur.es  and  un- 
timely deaths. 

He  v/as  at  length  fo  very  much  Incenfed  at  the  great 
depravations  of  human  rtJture,  and  the  repeated  prov- 
ocations which  he  received  from  all.parts  of.the  earth, 
that  leaving  refolved  to  dcftroy  the  whole  fpecies  ex- 
cept Deiiculio}}  and  Pyrrha^  he  commanded  the  Dejlinies 
to  gather  up  the  bielhngs  which  he  had  thrown  away- 
upon  the  fons  of ,  mej!,  and  lay  them  upuntil  the  world 
£iouid  be  inhabitul  by. a  more  virtuous  and  defervin^ 
j^ce  of  mortals. . 

The  three  fillers  immediately  repaired  to  the  earth,:, 
in  fearch  of  the  feveral  blellings  that  had  been  featter- 
ed  on  it  but  found  the  tafic  which  was  enjoined  thcnv 
to  be  n.  xch  more  diiT»eult  than  they  imagined.  The 
fjrfl:  places  which  they  reiorted  toj  as  the  moft  Hkely- 
to  fucceed  in,  v/ere  cities,  palaces,  2nd  courts  j  but; 
inftead  of  meeting  wkh  what  they  looked  for  here> 
ih-ey  found  nothing  but  env-y,  repining,  raid  the  Xi%.^ 


3'2  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

bitter  ingredients  of  the  left-hand  vefTel  :  WliereaSr 
to  their  great  furprife,  they  difcovered  content,  chear- 
fidnefs,  health,  innocence  and  other  the  mod  fub- 
ilantial  bleiluigs  of  life,  in  cottages,  fliades,  and  fol- 
itudes. 

There  was  another  circ.umftance  no  lefs  unexpect- 
ed than  the  former,  and  whic4i  gave  them  very  great 
perplexity  in  the  difchaige  of  the  truft  which  Jupiter 
had  committed  to  them.  They  obferved  that  feveral 
bleiTings  had  degenerated  into  calamities,  and  that  fev- 
eral calamities  had  improved  into  bleffings,  according 
as  they  fell  into  the  pofieirion  of  wife  and  foolifli  men.. 
They  often  found  power,  with  fo  much  iniolence  and 
impatience  cleaving  to  it,  that  it  became  a  miisfortune 
to  the  perfon  on  whom  it  was  conferred  :  Youtli  had 
often  difLcmpers  growing,  about  it,  worfe  than  the 
ir.^rraites  of  old  age;  wealth  was  often  united  to  fuch 
a  lOidid  avarice,  as  m.ade  it  the  moft  uncomfortable 
•^ivA  painful  kind  of  poverty.  KJn  the  contrary,  they 
often  found  pain  made  glorious  by  fortitude,  poverty 
"loft  in  content,  deformity  beautified  by  virtue.  In  a 
v/crd,  the  bleffings  were  often  like  good  fruits  planted 
in  a  bat!  foil,  that  by  degrees  fall  oiF  from  their  nat- 
ural reiifiri,  into  tafles  altogether  infipid  or  unwhole-. 
fome  \  and  the  calamities,  like  harfh  fruits,  cultivated 
in  a  good  foil,  and  enriched,  by  proper  grafts  and  in- 
oculations, till  they  fwell  with  generous  and  delightful 
juicec. 

There  v/as  (1111  a   third   circum (lance,  which  occa- 
{ioned  as  great  a  furprife  to  the  three  filters  as  either: 
of  the  foregoing,  when  they  difcovered  feveral  calami-^ 
ties  which  had  never  been   in  either  of  the   tuns  that- 
flood  by  the  throne  of  Jupiter^^nA  were  neverthelefs  as- 
great   occafions  of  bappinefs  or  mifery  as   any  there* 
Thefe  were  that  fpurious  crop  of  bleffings  and  calami- 
ties which  vv^ere  never  fown  by  the  hand  of  the  Deity, 
but  grew  of  themfelves  out  of  the  fancies  andtiifpofi- 
tions  of  human  creatures  j  fuch  are  drefs,  titles,  place,  , 
eciuipage,  falfe  fhame,   and  groundlefs    fear,  with  the 
like  vain   imaginations  that  flioot  up  in  trifling,  v/eakj 
and  irrefolute  minds..-    The  Deftjnmy  finding  theni* 


I 

ADDISO  NIAN  MISCELLANY.  33 

■felves  in  fo  great  a  perplexity,  concluded  that  it  would 
be  impoirible  for  them  to  execute  the  commands  that 
had  been  given  them,  according  to  their  firit  intention; 
for  which  reafon  they  agreed  to  throw  all  the  bleffings 
ai;d  calamities  together  into  one  large  veilel,and  in  that 
niianner  off::r  them  up  at  the  feet  of  Jupner,  This 
was  performed  accordingly,  the  eldefi:  lifter  prefented 

'herfelf  before  the  veflel,  and  introsiuced  it  with  an 
apology  for  what  they  had  done. 

O  Jupiter,  (fays  fhc)  nj^e  have  gathered  together  all  the 
good  and  ci);l,  the  comforts  and  difrej/is^  of  htman  life,  ^ojhicb 
tvf  ihvs  prcjent  befin  thee  in  o  :e  pror/ufcuous  heap.       Wi  be- 

feech  thce^  that  thou  thfelf  --^illfort  them  out  for  the  future,  as 
in  thy  <v^-ifdo!-n  thou  fait  think  ft ;  for  i<  e  ackno-jctedge  that 
there  is  none  befdes  thte  that  can  judge  nvhat  ^^xill  occafion  grkf 
or  joy  in  the  heart  of  a  human  creature,  and  ixhat  luill  prove  a 
blelfing  or  a  calamity  to  it.eperfon  on  njuhoni  it  is  hejlo-we.i. 

Tatler,  Vol.  in.  No.  146. 


AGE. 

'F  all  X:i\(t  impertinent  wiilies  which  we  liear  ex- 
prelfed  in  convtrlation,  there  is  not  one  more  unwor- 
thy a  gentleman,  or  a  man  of  liberal  education,  than 
that  of  wiihi ng  one's  felf  younger.  It  is  a  certain 
fign  of  a  foolilli  or"  a  dilTolute  mmd,  if  we  want  our 
youth  again  only  for  the  Itrength  of  bones  and  Gnews 
which  we  once  were  mafters  of  ;  it  is  as  abfurd  in  an 
old  man  to  willi  for  the  ftrength  of  a  youth,  as  it 
would  be  in  a  young  man  to  wiih  for  the  ftrength 
of  a  bull  or  a  horfe.  Thefe  wiflies  are  both  equal- 
ly out  of  nature,  which  fnould  dire6l  in  all  things 
that  are  not  contradictory  to  juitice,  lav/,  and  rea- 
fon. 

Age  in  a  virtuous  perfjn  of  either  fex  carries  in  It 
an  authority,  which  makes  it  preferable  to  all  the 
pleafures  of  youth  *,  if  to  be  fal||t^"d,  attended,  or 
confulted,  with  deference,  are  inlbanccs  of  plea- 
fure,  they  are  fuch  as  never  fail  a  virtuous  old  age- 
In  the  enunieracioii  of  the  im perfections  and  advaii.- 


64  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

tages  of  the  younger  and  later  years  of  man,  they  are 
fo  near  in  their  condition,  that  methinks  it  fhould  be 
incredible  we  fee  fo  little  commerce  of  kmdnefs  be- 
tween them.  If  we  confider  youth  and  age  with  TuU 
Ij,  rega^rding  the  affinity  to  death,  youth  has  manv^' 
more  chances  to  be  nearer  it  than  age  *,  what  youth« 
can  fay  more  than  an  old  man,  *  He  fhail  live  til!-! 
night  ?'  youth  catches  difi:empeis  more  eafily,  its  fick- 
neis  is  more  violent,  and  its  recovery  more  doubtful- 
The  youth,  indeed,  hopes  for  many  more  days  5  fo^j 
cannot  the  old  nian.  The  youth's  hopes  are  ill 
grounded  ;  for  what  is  more  foolifh  than  to  place  any 
confidence  upon  an  uncertainty  ?  But  the  old  man 
has  not  room  fo  much  as  for  hope  j  he  is  ftill  hap- 
pier than  the  youth  •,  he  has  already  enjoyed  what 
the  other  does  but  hope  for  ;  one  wifnes  to  livelong^, 
the  other  has  lived  long.  But,  alas,  is  there  any  thing 
in  human  life,  the  duration  of  which  can  be  called 
long  ?  There  is  nothing,  which  muft  end,  to  be  valu- 
ed for  its  continuance.  If  hours,  days,  months,  and 
yearsj  pafs  away,  it  is  no  matter  what  hour,  what  davj 
what  month,  or  what  year  we  die.  The  applaufe  of 
a  good  a£lor  is  due  to  him  at  whatever  fcene  of  the 
play  he  makes  his  e>cit.  It  is  thus  in  the  life  of  a  man 
of  fenfe  j  a  fhort  life  is  fufficient  to  n:ianiieft  himfelf  a 
man  of  honour  and  virtue  j  when  he  ceafes  to  be 
fuch  he  has  lived  too  long  ;  and,  while  he  is  fuch,  it 
is  of  no  confequence  to  him  how  long  he  fhall  be  fo,^ 
provided  he  is  fo  to  his  life's  end. 

Spectator,  Vol  II.  No.  153.  Ta. 


Ti 


AGREEABLE  MAN. 


HE  deiire  of  pleafing  makes  a  man  agreeable  or  1 

unwelcome  to  thofe  v/ith  whom  he  converfes,  accord-  I 

ing  to  the  motive  from  which  that  inclination  appears  i 

to  flow.     If  you^  concern    for  pleafing   others  arifes  J 

from  innate  benevolence;  it  never  fails  of  fuccefs  ;  if  1 

from  a  vanity  to  excel,  its   difappointment    is  no  lefa  I 
ijertaia.      What  we  call  an  agreeable  man,  is  he 


WW' 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  3^ 

IS  endowed  with  the  natural  bent  to  ,do  acceptable 
tilings,  from  the  dcjight  he  takes  in  them  merely  as 
fuch ;  and  the  alTecl:ation  of  thnt  charader  is  what 
conditutes  a  fop.  Under  thefe  leaders  one  may  draw 
up  all  thofe  who  make  any  manner  of  figure,  except 
in  dumb  fhow.  A  rational  and  felecSl:  converlation 
is  compofed  of  perfons  who  have  the  talent  of  pleaf- 
ing  with  delicacy  of  lentiments,  flowing  from  habitual 
chaitity  of  thought.  Now  and  then  you  meet  with  a 
man  fo  exadly  formed  for  piealing,  that  will  make 
him  gain  upon  every  body  who  hears  or  beholds  him. 
This  felicity  is  not  the  gift  of  nature  only,  but  muil 
be  attended  with  happy  circumftances,  which  add  a 
dignity  to  the  familiar  behaviour  which  diftinguilhes 
him  whom  we  call  the  agreeable  man.  It  is  from  this 
that  every  body  loves  and  cUeems  Polycarpm.  He  is 
in  the  vigour  of  his  ago,  and  >!.e  gaiety  of  his  life  ; 
but  has  palled  through  very  confpicuous  fcenes  in  it  : 
Though  no  foldier,  he  has  fliared  the  danger,  and  act- 
ed wuh  great  gallantry  and  generofity,  in  a  decifive 
day  <jf  battle.  To  have  thofe  qualities  which  only 
«iake  other  men  confpicuous  in  the  world,  as  it  were 
Supernumerary  to  hini,  is  a  circumftance  which  gives 
weight  to  his  mod  i:i(UfFe^:ent  actions  ;  for  as  a  known 
(jredit  is  ready  cafli  to  a  trader,  fo  is  acknowledged 
merit  immediate  dillhittion,  and  fervcs  in  the  place  of 
equipage  to  a  gentleman.  This  renders  Poiycarpus 
graceful  in  mirth,  important  in  bufmefs  and  regarded 
with  love  in  every  ordinary  occurrence. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IV.  No.  280.  T. 


AGREEABLE  in  COMPANY. 

JL  KE  true  art  of  being  agreeable  in  company  (but 
there  can  be  no  fuch  thing  as  art  in  it)  is  to  appear 
well  pleafcd  with  thofe  you  are  engaged  with,  and 
rather  to  feem  well  entertained,  than  to  bring  enter- 
tain m.ent  to  others.  A  man  thus  difpofed,  is  not  in- 
deed what  we  ordinarily  call  a  good  companion,  but 
^catially  is  fuch,  and  in  all  parts  of  his  converfatioa 


-iS  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

has  fomething  friendly  in   his  belravionr,  which  con-' 
ciliates  men's   minds  more   than  the  higheft  Tallies  of 
wit  or  fharts  of  humour  can  poiTibly  do.     The  feeble- 
nefs  of  age  in  a  man  of  this  turn,  has  fomething  which 
fljould  be  treated  with  rtfpecl  even  in  a  man  no  oth- 
erwife  venerable.     The  forwardnefs  of   yciuh,  when  ] 
it  proceeds  from  alacrity,  and  not   infolence,  has  alfo 
its  ;  Lowances.      The  companion  who   is  formed  for 
fuch  by   nature,  gives  x.o  every   character   in  life  its 
due  regard,  and  is  ready   to  account    for  their  imper-  k 
feciions,  and  receive  their  accomplilhments,  as  if  they 
were  his  o\^  n.     It  mull  appear  that  you  receive  law 
from,  and  not  give  it  to,  your  company,  to  make  you 
a^iceabie. 

Spectator,  Vol.  V.  No.  386.  T. 


V  /         ALLEGORIES, 
EGO 


^\lLEGORTES,  when  well  chofenare  like  fo  ma- 
ny tracks  of  Hght  in  a  difcourfe,  that  makes  every 
thing  about  them  fecm  clear  and  beautiful.  A  noble 
metaphor,  when  it  is  placed  to  advantage,  cafls  a  kind 
of  glory  round  it,  and  darts  a  luftre  through  a  whole" 
fcntence.  Thefe  diiTerent  kinds  of  allufion  are  but  lo 
many  different  manners  of  fimilitude  \  and  that  they 
may'pleafe  the  imagination,  the  likeriefs  ought  to  be 
very  exa<£l,  or  very  agreeable  :  as  wc  love  to  fee  a  pic-  : 
turc  where  the  refemblance  is  juft,  or  the  pofiure  aiid 
air  graceful  :  But  we  find  eminent  wTiters  very  faulty 
in  this  refpeft.  Great  fcholars  are  apt  to  fetch  com- 
parifons  and  allufions  from  .the  fcience  in  which  they 
are  mod  converfant  ;  fo  that  a  m.an  may  fee  the  com- 
pafs  of  their  learning  in  a  treatife  on  the  moft  indif- 
ferent fubjeft.  I  nave  rend  a  difcourfe  upon  love, 
which  none  but  a  profound  chimift  could  underftand. 
On  the  contrary,  your  men  of  bufmefs  ulually  hare 
recourfe  to  fuch  inilances,  as  are  too  mean  and  famil- 
iar;  they  are  for  drawing  tlie  reader  into  a  game  of 
chefs  or  tennis,  or  for  leading  him  from  fliop  to  (hop 
in  the  cant  of  particular  trades  and  employments.     It 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  -i 

U  certain  there  may  be  found  an  infinite  variety  of 
very  agreeable  alliifions  in  both  thefe  kinds  ;  but,  for 
the  generality,  tlie  moO;  entertaining  ones  He  in  tha 
works  of  nature,  which  aie  obvious  to  all  capacities, 
and  more  deliglitful  than  what  is  to  be  found  in  arts 
and  fci'^ncics. 

They  fet  off  all  writings  in  general,  and  are  the  ve- 
lif^  and  highcft  perfeftion  of  poetry,  where  it 
rnnes  in  an  eininent  degree.  It  has  pref^rved  feveral 
poems,  for  many  ages,  thar  have  nothing  elfe  to  re- 
comm;!nd  them  ;  and  where  all  the  other  beauties  arc 
prefent,  the  work  appears  dry  and  infipid  if  this  fmgla 
Oiie  be  wanting.  It  has  fomething  in  it  like  creation  ; 
ii:  bellows  a  kind  of  exigence,  and  draws  up  to  the 
reader's  view  feveral  cbjecSls  which  are  not  to  be  found 
in  being.  It  makes  additions  to  nature,  and  gives  a 
greater  variety  to  God's  works.  In  a  word,  it  is  able 
to  beautify  and  adorn  the  moft  illullrious  fcenes  ia 
the  univerfe,  or    to  fill  the   mind  with  more  glorious 

i'  liiows  and  apparitions  than  can  be  found  in  any  part 

-  of  it. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VI.  No.  421.  O. 

An  allegory  is  like  the  health  we  get  by  hunting  ; 
as  we  are  engaged  in  an  agreeable  purfuit  that  draws 
r.s  on  with  pltalure  and  makes  us  mfenfible  of  the  fa- 
t.'gues  that  accompany  it. 

Tatler,  Vol.  III.  No.  147. 

As  foma  of  tlie  fined  compofitions  among  the  an- 
cients are  in  allegory,  1  have  endeavoured  in  feveral  of 
.my  papers  to  revive  that  way  of  writing,  and  hope  I 
have  not  been  unfuccelsful  in  it  ;  for  I  find  there  is  al- 
ways a  great  demand  for  thofe  particular  papers,  ^nd 
.cannot but obft^rve  that  feveral  authors  have  endeavour- 
ed of    late  to  excel  in  works  of  tliis  nature.      Among 
:fe  I  do  not  know  any  one  who  has  fucceeded  better 
m  a  very   Ingenious  gentleman,  to  whom  I  am  in- 
■Sted  for  the  following  piece. 

How  are  we  tortured  with  the  abfence  of  what  w> 

c-t  to  pofiefs,   when  it   apoears  to  be  loft  to  us  I 

D     ' 


3S  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

What  excurfions  does  the  foul  make  in  imagination 
after  it  !  And  how  does  it  turn  into  itfulf  again  more 
foolilhly  fond,  and  deje6lcd  at  the  difappointment  ? 
Our  grief,  inftead  of  having  recourfe  to  rtafon,  wh.ich 
might  reilrain  it,  fearches  to  find  a  further  nourifh- 
ment  ;  it  calls  upon  memory  to  relate  the  feveral  paf« 
fages  and  circumftances  of  fatisfa6tion  which  we  for- 
merly enjoyed  ;  the  pleafures  we  purchafed  by 
'thofc  riches  that  are  taken  from  us  or  the  power  and 
fplendor  of  our  departed  honours  ;  or  the  voice,  the 
words,  the  looks,  the  temper,  and  affections,  of  our 
friends  that  are  deceafed.  It  needs  mud  happen  from 
hence,  that  the  pafTion  fhould  often  fwcU  to  fuch  a  fize 
23  fliould  burft  the  heart  which  contains  it,  if  time  did 
not  make  thefe  circumftances  Icfs  flrong  and  lively  ; 
fo  that  reafon  fliouid  become  a  more  equalmatch  for 
the  paflions  ;  or  if  another  defire,  which  becomes 
more  prefent,  did  not  overpower  them  with  a  livelier 
-re.rrefentation.  Thefe  are  thoughts  v/hich  I  had, 
when  I  fell  into  a  kind  of  vifion  upon  this  fubjeft,  and 
may  therefore  ftand  for  a  proper  introduction  to  a  re- 
lation of  it. 

I  found  myfelf  upon  a  naked  fhore,  with  company,' 
v/hofe  alTlided  countenances  witneffed  their  condi- 
tions. Before  us  flowed  a  water,  deep,  filent,  and 
called  the  river  of  Tears,  which,  iiluing  from  two 
fountains  on  an  upper  ground,  encompaffed  an  ifland 
that  lay  before  us.  The  boat  which  plied  in  it  was 
old  and  fliattered,  having  been  fometimes  overfet  by 
the  impatience  and  hafte  of  fmgle  paffengcrs  to  arrive 
at  the  other  fide.  This  was  immediately  brought  too 
by  Misfortune,  who  (leers  it  •,  and  we  were  all  prepar- 
ing to  take  our  places,  when  there  appeared  a  woman 
of  a  mild  and  compofed  behaviour,  who  began  to  de- 
ter us  from  it,  by  reprefenting  the  danger  that  would 
attend  our  voyage.  Hereupon  fome,  who  knew  her 
for  Patience,  and  fome  of  thofe  too  who  till  then  cried 
tl*e  Icudeit,  were  perfuaded  by  her,  and  returned  back. 
The  reft  of  us  went  in,  and  llie  (whofe  good  nature 
ivould  not  fuffer  her  to  forfake  perfons  in  trouble)  de- 
fired  leave  to  accompany  us,   that  fne  might  at  Icrid 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  39 

admlniiler  fome  fmall  comfort  or  ncivice  while  we 
failed.  We  were  no  fooner  embarked,  but  the  boat 
was  puflied  otT,  the  flieet  was  fpread,  and,  being  fill- 
ed with  figh^^  which  were  the  winds  of  that  country, 
we  made  a  paffage  to  the  farther  bank  through  feveral 
diilicukies,  of  which  moft  of  us  feemed  utterly  re- 
girdlefs. 

When  we  landed,  we  perceived  the  Jfland  to  be 
flran.Ejely  ovcrcaft  with  fogs,  which  no  brightnefs 
couki  pierce  ;  fo  that  a  khid  of  gloomy  horror  fat  al- 
•  ways  brooding  over  it..  This  had  fomething  in  it  ve- 
ry lliocking  to  eafy  tempers  *,  infomuch  that  fome  oth~ 
ers,  v/hom  Patience  had  by  this  time  gained  over,  left 
us  here,  and  privily  conveyed  themlclves  round  the 
verge  of  the  illand,  to  find  a  ford,  by  which  flic  tokf 
them  they  might  efcape. 

For  my  part,!  ftill  v/ent  along  with  thcfe  who  were 
for  piercing  into  the  centre  of  the  place  ;  and,  joining 
ourfclves  to  others  whom  we  found  upon  the  flimc 
journey,  wc  marched  folemnly,  as  at  a  funeral, through 
bordering    hedges  of  rofemary,    and  through  a  grove 

I  of  yew-trees,  which  love  to  overfhadow  tombs,  and 
flourirfi  in  church-yards.  Here  we  heard  on  every 
fivle  the  wailingsand  . complaints  of  the  inhabitants, 
who  had  call  themfeives  difconfolately  at  the  feet  of 

^ trees  ;  and,  as  we  chanced  to  approach  any  of  thefe, 
we  might  perceive  them  wringing  their  hands,  beating 
their  breads,  tearing  their  liair,  or  after  fome  other 
manner  vifibly  agitated  with  vexation.  Cur  fcrrows 
were  heightened  by  the  influence  of  what  v/e  faw  and 
heard  •,  and  one  01  our  number  was  vv^rought  up  to 
fuch  a  pitcli  of  wildnefs,  as  to  talk  of  hanging  himfelf 
upon  a  bough  which  fliot  temptingly  acrofs  the  path 
we   travelled  in  ;    but  he  was    reitrained   from  it  by 

;  the  kind  endeavours  of  our  above-mentioned  com- 
panion. 

We  had  now  gotten  into  the  moft  duHcv,  filent 
part  of  tlie  ifland  ;  and,  by  the  redoubled  founds  pf 
lighs  v/hich  mi?de  a  dolei'ul  whiftling  in  the  branches, 
the  thicknefs  of  the  air  which  occafioned  faintifli  re- 
fpiration,  and  the  violent  thrpbbings  of  heart  v/hich 


I 


40  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

more   and  more  afFc'fted  us,   we  found   that   we  ap 
preached  the    grotto  of  Grief.     It  was  a  wide,  hollow,  I 
and  melancholy  cave,  funk  deep  into  a  dale,  and  wa--: 
tered  by  rivulets  that  had  a  colour  between  red  and  < 
black.     Thele  crept  flow  and  half  congealed  amongll,i| 
its  windings,   and  mixed   their  heavy    murmurs  withv 
the  echo  of   groans,   that  rolled  through   all  their  paf- 
fa-res.       lathe  moft  retired  part  fat  the  doleful  Being 
Jierfelf  *,    the  path   to  her  was   ftrewed    v.ith  goads,  J 
itings,  and  thorns  ;  and  her  throne    on  which  iiie  fat  I 
-was  broken  into   a  rcrck,  with  ragged   pieces   pointing  f 
upwards   for  her  to  lean  upon.       A  heavy  miii  hung 
above  her  •,  her  head  opprelTed  with  it,  reclined  upon : 
her  arm  :  Thus  did  fhe   reign    over   her  difccnfQlatc 
fubjeclsj   full  of  herfelf  to  ilupidity,  in  eternal- pen- 
fivenefs,  and  the  profoundeft  fiience.     On  one  Hqe  of 
her  Rood  Dejeaioa^  jufi:  dropping  into  a  fwoon-j  and 
Falenefs^  waiting  to    a   ikeleton  :    On    the  othet  fide 
•were  Carey  inwardly  tormented   with    imaginations  *, 
and   Anouijh^   fnfFering    outward    troubles  io    fuck   the 
blood  from  her  heart,  in  the    iliape  of   cultures.     The 
whole  vault  had  a  genuine  difmalnefs  in  it  :  vvhicli  a 
few  fcattered   lamps,  whofe  bluifh  flames   arofe  aiul 
funk  in  their  urns,  difcovered   to  our   eyes   with  in-' 
creafe.     Some  of   us  fell  down,   overcome  and  fpent . 
\vith  what  they  fuiTered  in   the   way,    and  were  giv- 
en over  to  thcfe  tormentors  that  flood  on  either  hand 
of  the   prefcnce  ;    others  galled    and    mortified  with 
pain,  recovered  the  entrance  where  Patience,  v^honi  we 
had  left  behind,  was  ftill  waiting  to  receive  us. 

With  her  (whofe  company  was  now  become  more 
grateful  to  us,  by  the  want  we  had  found  of  her)  we 
winded  round  the  grotto,  and  afcended  at  the  back  of 
it  out  of  the  mournful  dale  in  whofe  bottom  it  lay. 
On  this  eminence  we  hailed,  by  her  advice,  to  psnt 
for  breath  ;  and,  lifting  our  eyes,  which  till  then  were 
fixed  downwards,  felt  a  fulkn  fort  of  fatisfacclon,  in 
obfsrving  through  the  fliades  what  numbers  had  en- 
tered the  iuand.  This  fatisfadlion,  which  appears  to 
have  ill  nature  in  it,  was  excufable,  becaufe  it  hap- 
pened at  a  time  when  ws  were  too  much  taken  up 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  41 

'w-ith  our  Gwn  concerns,  to  have  refpeft  to  that  of 
others  ;  and  therefore  we  did  not  confider  them  as 
fullering,  but  ourfelves  as  fuflering  in  the  mod  for- 
lorn eftate.  It  had  alfo  the  ground-work  cf  humanity 
and  compafhon  in  it,  though  the  mind  Vvas  the;i  too 
daik  and  too  deeply  engaged  to  perceive  it  :  But,  as 
we  proceeded  onwards,  it  began  to  difcover  itfelf ;  and, 
from  obferving  that  others  were  unhappy,  we  came  to 
quedion  one  another  when  it  was  that  we  met,  and 
what  were  the  fad  occafions  that  brought  us  togeth- 
er ?  Then  M'e  heard  our  ftories,  we  compared  tnem, 
we  mutually  gave  and  received  pity,  and  fo  by  degrees 
became  tolerable  company. 

A  confiderable  part  of    the  troublefcme   road   was 
thus    deceived   :     At    length,    the    openings  of  the 
trees   grew    larger,    the  air  feemed  thinneV,   it   lay 
with    lefs   oppreiTion    upon    us,   and  we  could  now- 
arid  then  dilcern  tracts  in  it  of  a  lighter  greyncf.^,  like 
the  breakings  of  day,  fliort  in  duration,  much  enliven- 
ing,  and   called   in  that   country  gleams  of  cmujement,. 
Within  a  fhort  time  thefe    gleams  began    to  appear 
more  frequent,  and  then  brighter,  and  of  a  longer 
continuance.      The  fighs,    that  hitherto  filled  the  ^air  • 
vvith  fo  much  dolefulnefs,  altered  to  the  found  of  com- 
mon breezes,  and  in  general  the  horrors  of  tlie  ifland  . 
were  abated. 

When  we  had  arrived  at  Iaft,at  the  ford  by  which  ■ 
we  were  to  pafs  out,  we  met  with  thefe  fafnionable 
mourners,  who  had  been  ferried  over  along  with  us, 
an,d  who,  being  unwilling  to  go  a3  far  as  we,  had 
coafted  by  the  ftiorc  to  find  the  place  were  they  wait- 
ed our  coming  ;  that,  by  fhewing  themfeives  to  th.i 
world  only  at  the  time  we  did,  they  might  feem  alfo  to  ^ 
have  been  among  the  troubles  of  the  grotto.  Here 
the  waters  that  roiled  on  the  other  fide  fo  deep  and 
filent,  were  much  dried  up  5  and  it  was  an  eafy  mat- 
ter for  us  to  wade  over. 

The  river  being  crofied,  we  were  received  upon  the 
further  bank  oy  our  friends  and  acquaintance,  whom 
Comfort  had  brought  out  to    congratulate  our  appear- 
ance in  the  world  again-      Some  of  thefe  blaiKed  us. 
D  ^ 


42  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

for  {laying  fo  loi^g  awny  frcm  them  ;  ethers  advifed 
us  againit  all  temptations  cf  going  back  again  ;  every 
one  was  cautious  not  to  renew  our  trouble,  by  afking 
sny  particulars  oi  the  journey,  and  ail  ccnqluded,  in  a 
cafe  of  io  much  melancholy  and  aniicliion,  we  could 
not  have  made  choice  of  a  better  companion  tharn  Pa- 
lience.  Here  Patience,  appearing  ferene  at  her  praifes, 
delivered  us  over  to  Ccmfort.  Co-.Kfort  fmnied  at  his  re- 
ceiving the  charge  ;  immediately  the  fls.y  purpled  on 
that  fide  to  which  he  turned,  and  double  day  at  once 
broke  in  upon  nie. 

Sfectatoe.,  Vol.  VIL  No.  501.  O. 

When    Hercules  -was  in  that  part  of  his  youth,   in 
■which  it  was  natural  for  him  to  conGder  what  courfe 
of  life   he  ought  to  purfue,  he  one  day   retired  into  a 
defart,  v/here  the  fdence  and  folitude  of  the  p>ace>e-. 
ry  much  contributed  to  his  meditations.     As  he  was 
niufing  QA\  his  prefent   condition,  and  very  much  per- 
plexed in  himfelf  on  the  (late  of  life  he  fhould  choofe, 
he  fav/  two  women  cf  a  larger  ftature  than  ordinary, 
approaching  towards  him.       One  of  them  had  a  very 
ricble  air,  and   graceful  deportment  :  Her  beauty  was 
natural  and  eafy,  her  pcrfon  clean  arfd  unfpotted,  her 
eyes  cafl   towards  the   ground  with  an   agreeable  re^ 
ierve,  her  motion  and  behaviour  full  of  modtdy,  and 
her  raiment  as  v^^hite  as  iwQ^^r.     The  other  had  a  great 
deal  cf  health  and  noridnefs  in  her  countenance,  which 
flie  had  helped  with  an  artincial  white  and  red  ;  and 
endeavoured  to  appear  more  graceful  than  ordinary  in 
htr  mein,  by    a  mixture  of  affecSlation  in  all  h.er  gef^ 
tures.     She  had  a  wonderful  confidence  and  alTurance 
in  her  looks,  and  all  the  variety-of  colours  in  her  drefs 
that  fhe  thought  were  the  moil  proper  to  fhew  her 
complexion  to  an  advantage.      She  cail  hcT  eyes  up- 
9n  herfelf,  then  turned  them  on  thofe  that  were  pref^ 
ent  to  fee  how  they  liked  her,  and  often  looked  on  the 
figure  ihe  m.ade  in  her  own  fiiadow.     L^pon  her  near- 
er approach  to  Hercules^   flie  ftepped  before  the  other 
iady  (wiiO  came  forward  with  a  regular  compofed  cat- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  43 

riage)  and,  running  up  to  him,  accoiled  him  after  tl\c 
foIiovvincT  manner  : 

My  dear  Hercules  (fays  fiie)  I  find  you  are  very 
mucii  divided  in  your  own  thoughts  upon  the  way  of 
hfe  you  oui^^ht  to  choofc  :  Be  my  frierd,  and  foilow 
me  ;  Vi\  lead  you  into  the  poflellion  of  plrafure,  an<i 
out  of  the  reaih  of  pain,  and  remove  you  frcm  all  the 
iioife  and  difquit?ti!d.e  of  bulinefe.  The  affairs  of  war 
and  peace  liiall  have  no  power  to  didurb  you  •,  your 
v/hol^  employment  fliall  be  to  make  your  life  *t3i(ij^ 
and  to  entercain  every  ienfe  with  its  proper  grati^ca- 
tions.  Sumptuous  tablesjbcds  of  rofes,  clouds  of  per- 
fumes, concerts  of  mufic.  Crov/ds  of  beauties,  are 
all  in  readinefs  to  receive  you.  Come  alon^r  with 
me  into  this  region  of  delights,  this  world  of  plea- 
fure,  and  bid  farcv/ell  for  cVcr  to  care,  to  pain,  to  bu- 
ll nefs. 

tiercules,  hearing  the  lady  talk  after  this  manner, 
denred  to  know  her  name  *,  to  which  ihs  anfwcre'l, 
my  friends,  and  thofe  that  are  well  acquainted  with 
me,  call  me  Happir.efi  \  but  my  enemies,  ar.d  thof^  wLo 
would  injure  my  reputation,  call  me  Fleafzire, 

By  this  time  the  other  lady  was  come  up,  xA\o  a;!- 
drefled  herfclf  to  the  young  hero,  in  a  very  difierent 
manner. 

Hercules  (fays  (lie)  I  offer  myiclf  to  you,  becaufe  I 
knov/  you  are  defcended  from  the  Gods,  and  give 
proofs  of  that  defcent  by  your  love  to  virtue,  and  ap- 
plication to  the  iVudies  prv">pcr  for  your  age.  This 
makes  me  hope  you  will  gain  both  for  yourfelf  and 
me  an  'm mortal  reputation.  But,  before  I  invite  you 
into  my  fociety  and  friendlhip,  I  will  be  open  and  fm- 
cere  with  you,  and  m.uft  lay  down  this  as  an  eftablifli.- 
ed  truth  :  That  there  is  nothing  truly  valuable  vv'hich 
can  be  purehafed  without  pains  and  labour.  The 
Gods  liave  fet  a  price  upon  every  real  and  noble  plea- 
fure.  If  you  would  gain. the  favour  of  the  Deity,  you 
mud  be  at  the  pains  of  worfhipping  him  ;  if  the  friend- 
fliip  of  good  men,  ycu  muft  Itudy  to  oblige  them  :  If 
vou  Would  be  honoured  by  your  country,  you  mufl 
take  care  to  fervc  it ;  if  you  would  be  eminent  in  war 


44  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.       . 

or  peace,  you  mud  become  mafter  of  all  the  qualliic?.- 
tions  that  can  make  you  fo.  Thefe  are  the  only  terms 
and  conditions  upon  which  I  can  propofc  happinefs. 
The  Goddefs  of  PUafure  her€  broke  in  upon  her  dif-- 
courfe  :  You  fee  (fuys  Ihe)  Hercules^  by  her  Ov\  n  confef- 
fion,  the  way  to  her  pleafure  is  long  and  difficult;.; 
whereas  that  which  I  propofe  is  (liovt  and  eafy.  Alas  ! 
faid  the  other  lady,  whofe  vifage  glowed  with  a  paflion 
made  up  of  fcorn  and  pity,  what  are  the  pleafures  you 
propofe  ?  To  eat  before  you  are  hungry,  drink  before 
you  are  athirfb,  Deep  before  you  are  tired  ;  to  gratify 
appetites  before  they  arc  raifed,  and  raife  fuch  ap- 
petites as  nature  never  planted.  You  never  heard 
the  mofl  delicious  mufic,  which  is  the  praife  of  one's 
felf ;  nor  fav/  the  moft  beautiful  object,  which  is  the 
v/ork  of  one's  own  hands  :  Your  votaries  pafs  away 
their  youth  in  a  dream  of  miilaken  pkafures,  while 
they  are  hoarding  up  anguiOi,  torment,  and  remorfe, 
for  old  age. 

As  for  me,  I  am   the  friend  of  Gods  and  of  good 
men,    an   agreeable   companion  to  the  artlzan,    and 
houfehcld  guardian  to  the  father  of  families  j  a  pat- 
ron and  protestor  of  fervants,  an  aiTociate  in  all  true 
and  generous  friendfliips.       The  banquets  of  my  vo-  . 
taries  are  never  coftly,  but  always  delicious  ;  for  none 
eat   or  dvink  at  them,  who  are  not  invited  by  hunger   ■ 
and  thirit.     Their  (lumbers  are  found,  and  tiieir  wak- 
ings are  chferful:      My  young^^men  have  the  pleafure 
of   hearing    themfelves  pr;iii"ed   by  tliofe   who   are  in . 
years  ;  and  thofe  in  years,  of  being  honoured  by  thofc 
v/ho  are  young.     In  a  v/ord,  my  followers  are  iavour- 
ed  by  the  God^,beloved  by  their  acquaintance,  efteem-- 
ed  by  their  country,  and  (after  the  clofe  of   their  la- 
bours) honoured  by  pofterity. 

We  know  by  the  life  of  this  memorable  hero,  that 
he  gave  up  his  heart  to  the  Goddeis  of  Vitue  ;  and  I 
believe  every  one  who  reads  this,  will  do  him  the  juf- 
ticc  to  approve  his  choic 

TATLER,Vol.n.No.  97,. 


I 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  4; 


ALEXANDER. 


T  is  rec(^rded  of  Alxander  the  Great,  that  in  his 
Indian  expedition  he  buried  fevcrai  fuits  of  armour, 
vvliich  by  his  direclions  were  made  much  too  big  for 
hisfoldiers,  in  order  to  give  pollerity  an  extraordinary 
idea  of  him,  and  make  them  believe  that  he  command- 
ed an  army  of  Giants. 

Spectator,  Voh  II.  No.  127.  C. 

There  is  ftill  extant,  an  epiftle  cf  Alexander  the 
Great  to  his  tutor  Arijioth^  upon  that  philofopcr's  pub- 
lirning'fome  part  of  his  writings,  in  which  the  prince 
complains  of  his  having  made.known  to  all  the  world, 
thofe  fecrets  in  learning  whicli  he  had  before  commu- 
nicated to  him  in  private  led:ures  •,  concluding  that  he 
had  rather  excel  ike  rejl  of  mankind  in  knonxdedge  than  in 
f Giver. 

Spectator,  Vol.  V.  No.  379. 

The  character  of  this  prince  indeed  was,  that  he 
was  unequal  and  given  to  intemperance  ;  but  in  his 
fober  momentSj  when  he  had  the  precepts  of  his  great 
inftruclor  warm  in  his  irnarip^ition,  he  was  a  pattern 
of  g<-nerous  thoughts  and  difp:  Htlcns,  in  oppofuion  to 
the  ftronoeil  deiires,  which  are  incident  to  a  youth  and 
concueror. 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.  191. 

A  nobl ?  punter,  who  has  the  ambition  to  draw  an 
liiftory-piece,  has  defired  me  to  give  him  a  fubject  on 
whicli  lie  may  fliow^  the  utmoil  force  of  his.  art  and 
genius.  For  this  purpofe  I  have  pitched  upon  that 
vcmarkable  incident  between  Alexander  and  Ids  phyfi- 
cian.  This  prince,  in  the  midd  of  his  conqueils  in 
PerjU^  was  feizcd  with  a  violent  fever  5  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  account  we  have  of  his  ^ajr  mind,  his 
thoughts  were  more  employed  about  his  recovery,  as 
it  regarded  the  war,  than  as  i^  concerned  his  own  life. 
He  profcITed  a  How  method  was  worfe  than  death   to 


46  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

him,  becaufe  it  was  what  he  more  dreaded,  an  inter-'.' 
ruption  to  his  glory  ;  he  delired  a  dangerous,  fo  it 
might  be  a  fpeedy  remedy.  During  this  impatience 
of  the  king,  it  is  well  known  that  i3^?;w  had  ofrered- 
an  immenie  fum  to  any  one  who  (liould  take  away  his 
life.  But  Philippuij  the  moft  efteemed  and  m.oft  know- 
ing of  his  phyficians,  promiftd,  that  within  three  days 
time  he  would  prepare  a  medicive  for  him,  which 
fhould  reftore  him  more  cxpeditiouHy  than  could  be 
imagined.  Immediately  after  this  engagement^,  Jlex- 
under  receivesia  letter  irom  the  moit  confiderable  of 
his  captains,  with  intelligence  that  Darius  Iiad  bribed  ■ 
jP>6/A//;/j  to  poifon  iiim.  Every  circumftance  imagin- 
able favoured  this  fufpicion  •,  but  this  monarch,  who 
did  nothi]ig  but  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  conceal- 
ed the  letter;  and  while  the  medicine  was  preparing, 
fpent  all  his  thoughts  upon  his  behaviour  in  this  im- 
portant incident.  From  this  long  foliloquy,  he  came 
to  this  refoluticn;  Alexander  muji  not  lie  here  ch've  to 
he  opprejfed  by  his  enemy  :  I  nvill  not  lelie'-ve  my  phyjician 
guilty  :  or  I  luill  rather  perijh  by  guilt j  than  7)iy  o^wn  dif- 
Jidence. 

At  the  appointed  hour  Philippus  enters  with  the  po- 
tion. One  cannot  but  form  to  one's  feif,  on  this  oc^ 
cafion,  the  encounter  of  their  eyes  ;  the  refolution  in 
thofe  of  the  patient,  and  the  benevolence  in  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  phyfician.  The  hero  raifed  himfelf  in 
his  bed,  and  holding  the  letter  in  one  hand,  and  the 
potion  in  the  other,  drank  the  micdicine.  It  V'ill  ex- 
ercife  my  friend's  pencil  and  brain,  to  place  this  adlion 
in  its  proper  beauty.  A  prince  obferving  the  features 
of  a  fufpecl:cd  traitor,  after  having  drank  the  poifcn 
he  offered  him,  is  a  circumftance-  fo  full  of  paffion, 
that  it  will  require  the  higheft  ftrength  of  his  imagin- 
ai^ion  to  conceive  it,  much  more  to  exprefs  it  :  But, 
as  painting  is  eloquence  and  poetry  in  raeclianifm,  I 
fliall  raife  his  ideas,  by  reading  with  him  the  fnieft 
draughts  of  the  pafhons  concerned  in  this  circum- 
ftance,  from  the  moft  excellent  poets  and  orators. 
Thecnnfidence  -which  Alexander  aiTumes,  from  the  air 
of  tliilippus'  face,  as  he  is  reading  his  accufation,  and-, 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  47 

the  generous  difdnin  which  is  to  rile  in  the  features  of 
a  fahely  accufed  man,  are  principally  to  be  regarded. 
in  this  particular^  he  muft  heighten  his  thoughts  by 
reiie(Qing,  that  he  is  not  drawing  only  an  innocent 
man  traduced,  but  a  man  zealoufly  affecled  to  his  per- 
Tjn  and  f ifcty,  full  of  refentment  for  being  thought 

l^faife.  Mow  fliall  we  contrive  to  exprefs  tlie  higheft 
admiration  mingled  witli  difdain  ?  How  Ihall  we,  in 
ftrokes  ot  a  pencil,  fay,  what  Philippus  did  to  his  prince 
on  this  occafion  ?  Sir,  my  life  never  depended  on  yoursy 
more  than  it  does  no^u  :  Without  knoi.m»g  the  fecrety  I  pre- 
pnrfd  the  potion^  ivhich  ynn  hwve  taken,  as  'what  ccncerned 
Philippus  no /e/s  than  Alexander  ;  and  there  is  nothing  fiew 
in  this  adventure,  hut  that  it  makes  me  Jlill  more  admire  the 
gcnercfity  and  confidence  cf  mv  mafier,  Alexander  took  him 
by  the  hand,  and  iaid,  Philippus,  I  cm  confident  you  had 
rather  1  had  any  other  ivay  to  have  manifiefied  the  fiaith  I  have 
in  you,  than  in  a  cafe  lohich  fo  nearly  concerns  me  :  Andy  in. 
gratitude,  I  nonv  djfure  you,  I  am  anxious  for  the  effefi^f  your 

■  medicine,  more  for  your  fake  than  for  my  oavn. 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.  209. 

ALLUSIONS. 

lY  allufcns^  a  truth  in  the  underftanding  is,  as  it 
were,  reflfi^ccd  by  the  imagination.  We  are  able  to 
fee  fomething  like  colour  and  fliape  in  a  notion,  and  to 
'idifcovcr  a  fcheme  of  thoughts  traced  out  upon  matter. 
And  here  the  m^md  receives  a  great  deal  of  fatisfaclion, 
xind  has  two  of  its  faculties  gratified  at  the  fame  time, 
while  the  fancy  is  bufy  in  copying  after  the  under- 
ilanding,  and  tranfcribing  ideas  out  of  the  intelledlual 
world  into  the  material. 

The  great  art  cf  a  writer  fliows  itfelf  in  the  choice 
cf  pleafing  allufions,  which  ate  generally  to  be  taken 
from  the  g^e&t  or  beautiful  works  of  art  or  nature  :  For 
•though  whatever  is  new  or  unco^^monis  apt  to  de- 
light the  imr-ginatior.  the  chief  deGgu  of  an  alluGon 
being  to  explain  or  iikiflrate  the  pailages  of  an  author. 


4S  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

h  fliould  be  always  borrowed  from  what  Is  more  known 
;^iid  common,  than  the  paffagcs  which  are  to  be  ex- 
plained. 

Spectatop.,  VoL  VI.  No.  421. 


A 


ALCIBIADES. 


i^LCIBIADES  was  a  man  of  great  fpirit,  extreme- 
ly addicted  to  pleafure,  but  at  the  fame  tim*e  very  ca- 
pable, and,- upon  occafion,  very  attentive  to  bufmefs. 
He  was  by  nature  endued  with  all  the  acccmplifh- 
meats  ilie  could  befbow  :  He  had  beauty,  wit,  cour- 
age, and  a  great  underfianding  ;  but,  in  the  firft 
bloom  of  his  life,  was  arrogandy  afPecled  with  the 
advantages  he  had  over  others.  That  temper  is  pret- 
ty viHble  m  an  expreflion  of  his,  when  it  was  propofed 
t>  him  to  Icnrn  to  play  upon  a  mufical  inftrument"; 
he  aiifwered,  It  is  not  for  me  to  gi've^  but  to  receive  delight. 
However^ the  converfation  of  Socrates  tempered  aflirong 
inclination  to  licenr'.oufnefs,  into  reflections  of  philof- 
ophy  ;  and,  if  it  had  not  the  force  to  make  a  man  of 
his  genius  and  fortune  wholly  regular,  it  gave  him 
fome  cool  moments,  and  this  follov.'i;ig  foliloquy  is 
fuppofed  by  the  learned  to  have  been  thrown  together 
before  fbme  cxpedfed  engagement,  and  feems  to  be 
v^ry  much  the  pidure  of  the  man. 

"  I  am  now  wholly  alone  ;  my  ears  are  not  enter- 
tained with  mufic,  my  eyes  with  beauty,  nor  any  of 
my  fences  fo  forcibly  aflecled,  as  to  divert  tlie  courfe 
of  my  inward  thoughts  :  Methinks  there  is  fomething 
facred  in  m.yfelf,  now  I  am  alone.  What  is  this  being  ; 
of  mine  f  1  came  into  it  without  my  choice  ;  and  yet 
Sccrates  fays  it  is  to  be  imputed  to  me.  In  this  repofe.  " 
of  m.y  fenfes,  wherein  they  communicate  nothing 
ftrongly  to  myfelf,  I  tafie  methinks  a  b^jing  diftlnd 
from  tlieir  operation.  Why  may  not  then  my  foul  ex- 
id,  when  (he  has  wholly  ^^one  out  of  thefe  organs  ?  I 
can  perceive  my  faculties  grow  flrcnger,  the  lefs  I  ad- 
mit the  pleafures  of  fenfe  j   and  the  nearer  I  place 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  4f> 

myfelf  to  a  bare  exiflence,  the  more  worthy,  the 
more  noble,  the  more  celeftial  does  that  exiitence  ap- 
pear to  mc.  if  my  foul  is  weakened  rather  than  im- 
proved by  all  tliat  the  body  adminifters  to  her,  ftii 
may  leafonably  be  fupppfed  to  be  dcfigned  for  a  mau- 
fion  more  fuitable  than  this,  wherein  what  delights 
her,  diminifhes  her  excellence,  and  tliat  which  afl'edit 
her,  adds  to  her  perfe<ftion.  There  is  an  hercarter  ; 
and   I   will   not  fear  to  be  immortal,  for  the   fake  of 

'iliis  Soliloquy  is  bat  the  firfl  dawnings  of  thought 
die  mind  of  a  mere  man  given  up  to  fenfuulity. 

Guardian,  Vol.  1.  No.  81. 


A]Mi3rnoN. 

JJ^  HE  ambition  of  princes  is  many  times  as  iiurtful 
to-themfelves  as  to  their  people  :  This  cannot  be  doubt- 
ed of  fuch  as  prove  unfortunate  in  their  wars,  but  is 
often  too  true  of  thofe  who  are  celebrated  for  their  fuc- 
ceffes.  If  a  fevere  view  were  to  be  taken  of  their  con- 
'duft,  if  the  profit  and  lofs  b}'  theii  wars  could  be  jufl- 
ly  balanced,  it  would  be  rarely  found  that  the  conquefb 
^is  fufficient  to  repay  the  coft. 

SpECrATOR,  Vol.  III.  No.  200. 

There  are  but  few  men  who  are  not  ambitious  of 
diftinguifhing  themfelres  in  the  nation  or  country 
where  they  live,  and  of  growing  confiderable  among 
thofe  with  whom  they  converfe.  There  is  a  kind  of 
grandeur  and  rcrpe<^  which  the  meaneft  and  moft  in- 
•iignificant  part  of  mankind  endeavour  to  procure  in 
tiie  little  circle  of  their  friends  and  acquaintance. 
The  pooreft  mxecharic,  the  man  who  lives  upcn  com- 
mon alms,  gets  him  his  fet  of  adirirers,  and  dcliglits 
-in  that  fuperiority  which  he  enjoys  over  thofe  who 
are  in  fome  refpeft  benetith  him.  Tins  ambition, 
which  is  natural  to  the  foul  of  mai;,  might,  me- 
thinks,  receive  a  very  happy  tiirn  ;  and,  if  it  were 


50  ABDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

rightly  dire^led,  contribute  as  much  to  a  per  Ton's 
advantage,  as  it  generally  does  to  his  uneafmefs  and 
difquiet. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IIL  No.  219. 

If  we  look  abroad  upon  the  great  multitude  of 
mankind,  and  endeavour  to  trace  out  the  principles  of 
adicn  in  every  individual,  it  will,  I  think,  feeui  iiigh- 
-]y  probable,  that  ambition  runs  through  the  whole 
fpccies,  and  that  every  man,  in  proportion  to  the  vig- 
our of  his  complexion,  \s  more  or  lefs actuated  by  it. 
It  is  indeed  no  uncommon  thing  to  meet  with  men, 
who  by  the  n<.t'aral  bent  of  their  inclinations,  and 
without  the  difcipiine  of  philofophy,  afpire  not  to  the 
heiglits  of  power  and  grandeur^  who  never  fet  their 
hearts  upon  a  numerous  train  of  clients  and  depend- 
encies, nor  ether  gay  appendages  of  greatnefs  ;  who 
are  contented  with  a  competency,  and  will  not  moleft 
their  tranquility  to  gain  an  abundance  :  But  it  is  not 
therefore  to  be  concluded,  that  f4fch  a  man  is  not  am- 
bitious :  His  defires  may  cut  out  another  channel,  and 
determine  him  to  other  purfuits  ;  the  motive  may  be, 
however,  flill  the  fame  ;  and  in  thofe  cafes,  likewife, 
tbe  man  may  be  equally  pufhed  on  with  the  dtfire  of 
diflinflion. 

Though  the  pure  concioufnefs  of  worthy  a61  ions, 
abftracled  from  the  views  of  popular  applaufe,  be  to  a 
generous  mind  an  ample  reward,  yet  the  defire  of  dif- 
tinifion  was  doubtlefs  implanted  in  our  natures  as  an 
additional  incentive  to  exert  ourfelves  in  virtuous  ex- 
-ctllcnce. 

This  paffion,  like  all  others,  is  frequently  perverted 
t:o  evil  and  ignoble  purpofes  •,  fo  that  we  may  account 
for  many  of  the  excellencies  and  foUies  of  life  upon 
the  fame  innate  principles  ;  to  wit,  tlie  defire  of  be- 
ing remarkable  :  For  this,  as  it  ha$  been  diiterently 
cultivated  by  education,  ftudy,  and  converfe,  will  brmg 
forth  fuitable  efFefts,  as  it  I'alls  in  with  an  ingenious 
companion,  or  a  corrupt  mind  :  It  does  alfo  exprefs 
itfelf  in  a6ls  of  magnanimity  or  felirfli  cunning,  as  it 
meets  with  a   good  or  a  weak  un4crilanding.     As  it 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  51: 

has  been  employed  in  embelliflnng  the  mind,  or  adorn- 
ing the  outfide,  it  renders  the  man  eminently  praife- 
worthy  or  ridiculous.  Ambition  therefore  is  not  to 
be  conhned  only  to  one  paihon  or  puriuit  ;  for  as  the 
fame  humours  m  conliitutions  otherwife  different,  af- 
fe£l  the  body  after  different  manners,  fo  the  fame  af- 
piri ng  principle  within  us  fometnnes  breaks  forth  up- 
on one  ohje6t,  fometimes  upon  anotlier. 

It  cannot  be  doubted,  but  that  there  is  ns  great  a' 
defire  of  glory  in  a  ring  of  wreiliers  or  cudgv:;l-play- 
ers,  as  in  any  other  more  refined  competition  for  fupe- 
riority.  No  man,  that  could  avoid  it,  would  ever  fuf- 
fer  his  head  to  be  broken,  but  out  of  a  principle  of 
honour. 

This  is  the  f^cret  fpring  that  puflies  them  forward  ;■ 
und  the  fup^iiority  which  they  gain  above  the  undif- 
tingulfiiid  many,  docs  more  than  repair  thofe  wounds  ■ 
they  have  received  in  the  combat.  Tis  Mr.  irJUr's 
opinion,  that  Julius  C^r,  had  he  not  been  mafter  of 
tlie  Ronun  Emoire,  would  in  all  probability  have  made 
lai  excellent  wrcftler. 

Great  Julius  on  the  mountains  bred, 
ji  Jlock  perhaps,  or  herd  had  led  ; 
lie  that  tie  ^jo(..ld  fuldued^  had  been  ' 
Bui  the  bcji  -ixrefiler  en  ihe  green. 

That  he  fub/iued  the  world,  was  owing  to  the  acci- 
dents of  art  and  knowledge  ;  had  he  not  met  witJi 
thofe  advantages,  the  fame  fparks  of  emulation  would 
have  kindled  within  him,  and  prompted  him  to  diflin- 
guilh  himfelf  in  fome  enterprize  of  a  Icv/er  naturCu 
Since  therefore  no  man's  lot  is  fo  unalterably  fixed  in 
this  life,  but  that  a  thcufand  accidents  may  either  for- 
ward or  difappoint  his  advancement,  it  is,  methinks^  a 
pleafant  and  inoff^nfive  fpeculation,  to  coniider  a  great 
man  as  diveiled  of  all  the  adventitious  circumitances 
of  fortune,  and  to  bring  him  down  in  one*s  imagina- 
tion to  that  low  ftation  of  life  the  nature  of  v  Ijich 
bears  fome  diltant  refemblance  to  that  high  one  he  is 
at  prefent  pofleffed  of.  Thus  one  may  view  him  ex~ 
^tcliiugin  miniature  thcfc  talerUs.  of  nature,  M-hichj 


52  ADDISONIAN   MISCELLANY. 

being  drawn  out  by  education  to  their  full  length,  en- 
able him  for  the  difcharge  of  fome  important  em- 
ployment. On  the  other  hand,  one  may  raife  unedu- 
cated m.erit  to  fuch  a  pitch  of  greatnefs,  as  may  feem 
equal  to  the  poffibie  extent  of  his  improved  capacity. 

Thus  nature  furniihesa  man  with  a  general  appe- 
tite for  glory  ;  education  determines  it  to  this  or  that 
particular  object.  The  de fire  of  diitin^lion  is  net,  I 
think,  in  any  inllancc  more  oblervable  than  in  the  va- 
riety cf  outfides  and  new  appearances  which  the  mod- 
ifh  part  of  the  world  are  obliged  to  provide,  in  order 
to  make  themfelves  remarkable  ;  for  any  thing  glaring 
andpr.rticula-r,  either  in  behaviour  or  apparel, is  known 
to  have  this  good  efre£l,  that  it  catches  the  eye,  and 
will  not  fufFer  you  to  pafs  over  the  pcrfcn  fo  adorned, 
■without  due  notice  and  obfervation.  It  has  likewife, 
upon  this  account,  been,  frequently  refented  as  a  very 
rreat  flight,  to  leave  any  gentleman  out  of  a  lam.poon 
or  a  fatire,  who  has  as  much  right  to  be  there  as  his 
neighbour,  becaufe  it  fuppcfes  a  perfon  not  eminent 
enougii  to  be  taken  notice  of.  To  tliis  paffionate  fond- 
nefc»  for  difl:Ln6Lion,  are  owing  various  frolic  feme  and 
irregular  .practices  ;  as  {allying  out  into  noflurnal  ex- 
ploits, breaking  of  Vv'indov.'s,  frnging  of  catches,  beat- 
ing the  watch,  getting  drunk  twice  a  day,  killing  a 
great  number  of  horles,  with  many  other  enterprizes 
cf  the  like  fiery  nature  ;  for  certainly  many  a  man  is 
more  rakilh  ana  extravagant  than  he  would  willing- 
ly be,  were  there  not  others  to  look  on  and  give  their 
iipprobation. 

One  very  common,  and  at  the  fame  time  the  m.ofl 
abfurd  ambition  that  ever  fhowed  itfilf  in  hum.an  na- 
ture, is  that  which  comes  upon  a  man  with  experience 
and  old  age,  the  feafon  when  it  mJght  be  expecfed  he 
Ihould  be  wifeft,  and  therefore  it  cannot  receive  any  of 
rhofe  leiTening  circumftances  which  do  in  fome  rnea- 
iurc  excufe  the  diforderly  ferments  of  youthful  blood  : 
I  mean  the  pafnon  for  getting  money,  exclufiveof  the 
character  of  the  provident  father,  the  afFedionate  huf- 
band,  or  the  generous  friend.  It  may  be  remarked, 
for  the   comrort   of  honed  poverty,  tliat  this  deilre 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  53. 

reigns  moft  in  thofe  "viho  have  but  few  gocd  qualities 
to  recommend  them.  This  is  a  weed  that  will  grow 
in  a  barren  foil.  Humanity,  good  nature,  and  iKc  ad- 
vantages of  a  liberal  education,  are  incompatible  witli 
avarice.  'Lis  (Irange  to  fee  how  fuddenly  this  abject 
pafllon  kills  all  the  noble  fcntiments  and  generous  am- 
bitions that  adorn  human  nature  ;  it  renders  the  man 
who  is  over-run  v/ith  it,  a  peevidi  and  cruel  mafter,  a 
fjvcre  parent,  an  unfociable  liufband,  a  diiiant  and 
miftruftful  friend.  But  it  is  more  to  the  preient  pur- 
pofc,  to  confidcr  it  as  an  abfurd  pafTion  of  the  hearfj 
rather  than  as  a  vicious  affection  of  the  mind.  As 
there  are  frequent  in  (lances  to  be  met  wiihof  a  proud 
humility,  fo  this  paiTion,  contrary  to  all  ethers,  affedts 
appliiufe,  by  avoiding  ail  fhow  and  appearance.  •  For 
this  reafcn  it  will  not  fomctimes  endure  even  the  com- 
mon decencies  of  apparel.  A  covetous  man  i<::ll  call 
himfelf  focr^  that  you  may  footh  his  'vanity  by  coniradi^ing 
hitn.  Love,  and  the  defire  of  glory,  as  they  are  the 
mod  natural,  fo  they  are  capable  of  being  refined  into 
^the  moft  delicate  and  rational  pallionc.  'Tis  true,  t]i« 
Vifc  man  who  (Irikes  out  o-f  the  fecret  paths  of  a  pri- 
vate life  for  honour  and  dignity,  allured  by  tiie  fplen- 
dor  of  a  court,  and  the  unfclt  weight  of  public  em- 
ployment, whether  he  fuccceds  in  his  attempts  or  not, 
ufually  comes  near  enough  to  this  painted  srcatncfs  tci 
difccrn  the  daubing  :  He  is  then  deGrous  cf- -extrica- 
ting himfelf  out  of  the  hurry  of  life,  tl.at  he  may  pab 
away  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  tranquility  and  re- 
tirement. It  may  be  thouglit  tlicn  but  common  pru- 
dence in  a  man  not  to  change  a  better  ftate  for  a  worf^, 
nor  ever  to  cjuit  that  which  he  knows  he  Hiall  take 
up  again  with  pleafure  :  And  yet  if  human  life  be  not 
a  little  moved  with  the  gentle  gales  of  hopes  and  fears, 
there  may  be  fome  danger  of  its  Ilagnating  in  an  un- 
manly indolence  and  fecurity. 

It  is  a  known  ftory  of  Dcmitian^  that  after  he  Iiad 
Jjoffeffed  himfelf  of  the  Roman  Empire,  his  def.res  turn- 
ed upon  catching  flies.  Active  and  mafcuiine  fpirits, 
in  the  vigour  of  youth,  neither  can  nor  cught  to  re- 
main at  relt  :  If  they  debar  themfelvcs  from  aiming  ?,t  * 
E  2 


54  ADDISONIAN 

a  noble  object,  their  defires  will  move  downwards,  and 
they  will  feel   themfelves   actuate  •!  by   fome   low  and 
abject  pafRon.     Thus  if  you  cut  oiT  the  top  branches 
of  a  tree,  and  will  not  fuffer  it  to  grow  higher,  it  will 
not   therefore   ceafe  to  grow,   but  will  quickly  fnoot 
out  at  the  bottom.      The   man  indeed   who  goes  into 
the  world  only  with  the  narrow  views  of   fclf-intereft, 
who  catches  at  the  applaufe  of  an  idle  multitude,  as  he 
><:an  find  no  folid  contentment  at  the  end  of  his  jour- 
ney, fo   he  dtferves  to  meet  with   difappointments  in 
his  way  :  But  he  who  is  actuated  by   a  noble  princi- 
ple, whofe  mind  is  fo  far   enlarged  as  to  take   in   the 
profpecl  of  his  country's  good,  who  is  enamoured  with 
that  praife  which  is  one  of  the  fair  attendants  of  vir- 
tue, and  values  not  thofe  acclamations  which  are  not-    i 
ieconded  by  the  impartial  teftimony  of  his  ov^/n  mind  ;    ; 
^vho  repines  not  at  the  low  ilation  which  Providence    \ 
has  at  prefent  allotted  liim,    but  yet  would   willingly"    j 
advance  himfelf  by  juilihable  means  to  a  more  rifmg    | 
and    advantageous  ground  ;  fuch  a  man  is   warmed;    1 
with   a  generous  emulation  :    it  is    a  virtuous  mov^c- 
inent  inliim.  to  wiHi,  and  to  endeavour,  that  h"s  pow-~   \ 
trof  doing  good  m^ay  be  equid  to  his  will.     The  man 
v/ho  is  fitted  out  by  nature,  and   fent  into  the  world 
^v:th  great  abilities,  is  capable  of  doing   great  good  or 
mifchief  in  it.    It  ought  therefore  to  be  the  care  of  ed-, ;i 
ncation,   tp  in/ufe  into  the  untainted  youth  early  no-  :  j 
tions  of  juftice  and  honour,  that  fo  the   poffible  ad-  | 
^vantages  of  good  parts  may   not  take  a  bad  turn,  nor    ] 
be  perverted  to  bafe    and  unworthy  purpofes.     It  is    'I 
the  bufinefs  of  religion  and    philcfophy  not   fo  much    < 
to  extinguifli  cur    palnons,  as  to  regulate   and   direct   | 
them  to  valuable,  well  chofen  objeCrs.       "When    thefe  J 
have  pointed  out  to  us  which  courfe  we  may  lawful-  /•' 
ly  lleer,  it  is  no  harm  to  fet  out   all  cur  fail  :  If  the  .a 
itorms  and  tempefts  of  advevnty  fiiould  rife  upon  us,  |^ 
and  not  lUiY^r  us  to  make  the  hiven  where  we  woukt  ^j 
be,  it  v.'ill  however  prove  no  fmall  confolation  to  us.  '^ 
in  thefe  circumRances,  thatwe  have  neither  miftakeii  'i 
our  courfe,  nor  fallen  into  calamities  of  our  own  pro- 
curing. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  55. 

Religion,  therefore,  were  v/e  to  confider  it  no  far- 
ther than  3.3  it  interpofes  in  the  affairs  of  this  Hfe,  is 
highly  valuable  and  worthy  of  great  veneration  y  as  it 
fettles  the  various  prcten'fions,  and  otherwif^^  inter- 
fering interclls  of  mortal  men,  and  thereby  confults  the 
harnlony  and  order  o.'"  tlie  great  commanity  -,  as  it 
gives  a  man  room  to  play  his  part  and  exert  his  abili- 
ties :  as  it  animates  to  attions  truly  laudable  in  them- 
felves,  in  their  eifeds  beneficial  to  foeiety  ;  as  it  in- 
fpires  rational  ambition,  correct  love,  and  elegant 
defire. 

Sfectator,  Vol.  m.  No.  224.. 

Ambition  raifes  a  fecret  tumult  in  the  foul  ;  it  in- 
flames the  mind,  and  puts  it  into  a  violent  hurry  c£ 
thought.  It  is  ft  ill  reaching  after  an  empty  imaginary; 
good,  that  has  not  in  it  the  power  to  abate  or  fatisfy- 
it.  Moil  other  things  we  long  for  can  allay  the  crav- 
ings of  their  proper  fenfe,  and  for  a  while  fet  the  ap-^ 
petite  at  reil  :  But  fame  is  a  good  fo  wholly  foreiga 
to  our  nature,  that  we  have  no  faculty  in  the  foul 
adapted  to  it,-  nor  any. organ  in  the  body  to  rejiili  it ; 
an  object  of .  defire  placed  out  of  the  poffibiiity  of 
fiuition. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IV.  No.  256.  C. 

There  is  fcarce  a  man  living  who  is  not  aduated 
by  ambition.  When  this  principle  meets  with  an  hon- 
»clt  mind  and  great  abilities,  it  does  inhnite  fervice  to 
the  world  ;  on  the  contrary,  when  s  man  only  thinks 
of  diftinguifhing  himfelf,  without  being  thus  qualifi- 
ed for  it,  he  becomes  a  very  pernicious  or  a  very  ridic-. 
ulcus  creature. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VIII.  No.  570. 


AINilTY  Between  the  t-xvc  Se^es,  danger cus, 

j|[T  fnould,  methinks,  preferve  modefty,  and  its  inter- 
efts  in  the  world,  that  the  tranfgreffion  of  it  always 
creates  oftence  j  and  ;he  very  purpofcs  of  wantounefs- 


50  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

are  defeated  by  a  carriage  wliich  has  in    it  fo  much 
bohhieis,  as  to  indmate   that    le;rr  aiid^  rtfluciance  are 
quire  extinguUhed  in  an  object  wliich  would  be  other-  - 
wife  dif  firable. .    it  w^ as  laid  of  a  wit  in  the  lail  age, 
Sidney  kas  fhat pre-vailing^  gentle  art<,  ~i 

Which  can  'wiih  a  rejtjtie/s  (harm  impart  C 

The  loijeft  ^ixnjhes  to  the  cfmjiejl  heart  ;  J 

Rnife  juch  a  conjiidty  kindle  Juch  iz/ire, 
J^et^een  declining  njtrtue  and  dejircy 
That  the  poor  'x.'anqiiifh'' d  maid  dijld-ves  a^'O^  . 
In  dreams  all  nighty  in  (ighs  and  tears  all  day. 

This  prevailing,  gentle  r.rt  was  irsadeup  of  complai-. 
fance,  courtfliip,  and  artful  conformity  to  the  modefty 
of  a  woman's  manners...  Rufiicity,  broad  exprefiion, 
and  forward  obtrufton  offend  thofe  of  education,  and 
make  the  tranfgrefibrs  odious  to  all  who  have  merit 
enouo-h  to  attract  regard.  It  is  in  this  tr.fte  that  the 
fcenery  isfo  beautifully  ordered  in  the  defcription  which 
J/!fhony  makes,  in  the  dialogue  between  him  and  Dola-^ 
bellay  of  Chcp-Jtra  in  her  barge. 

/7<?r  ffatlty  donvn  the  ^fef?*  Clclnos  roi.J'd, 

7  he  tackUng  Jilk^  the  ffr-sainers  <tvi-iv'd  <with  geld : 

Ihe  gentle  ii.inds  iverolodgd  in  purple  Jails  ; 

Her  nymphs ,  like  Nereids,  rQit>fd  her  couch  'were  plac^d^^ 

Where  fie^  cnciher  fea-horn  Venus,  lay  ; 

^he  lay,  and  ken'' d  her  check  iifbn  her  handy 

And  cnji  a  loo\  ft  I  an  pv:  if/singly  f'lx.eety 

As  if  fecure  of  all  Ire  holders  heart  Sy 

Nf^^leciing  pe  cculd  tcke  thefn       Boys,  hke  Cupids,  . 

Stood  farming  with  their  pcinlir.g  n/jiAvs,  the  winds 

That  flpyd  about  her  face  :  hut  if  pe  jmil^dy 

A-dartirg  glory  fee.nd  to  bLi%e  abroad^ 

That  mens  deptving  e}-es  'mere  fttver  njjeary^d'y 

But  hu7}^  upon  the  chjsa.      To  Joft  fiutes 

^he  Jil-jer  oars  k'2pt  time  :   c-ndnxhili;  they  flayd^ 

The  hearing  ganje  neiv  pleafure  to  title  fight ^ 

And  both  to  though 

Here  the  irhrginatlon  is  warmed  with  all  the  obje6t^ 
■prefented,  and  vet  there  is  nothing  that  is  lufcious,  or 
what  raifes  any 'idea  ir.ere  loofe  tiian  that  of  a  beauti- 


ADDisONTAN  MISCELLANY.  57 

ful  woman  fet  ofF  to  advantage.  The  like,  or  a  more 
delicate  and  ciireful  ifpmi  of  modeily,  appears  in  the 
following  pallag't  in  one  of  Mr.  Philipi's  pailorals. 

Breathe  foftyye  'uiinJ;  ;  ye  'waters y  gently  fo-xv  ; 
Shieli^  lur^ye  trees  ;  ye  Jlo^ju^rs,  around  her  grc-w  j 
l^e  /n-vciJis,  I  beg  , oily  pufi  in  Ji.ence  by  ; 
My  loue  in  yonder  iiale  ujleep  dees  lie. 

Dcfire  is  corrected  when  there  is  a  tendernefs  or  ad- 
mir;ition  exprefPed  which  partakes  *:he  pafilon  :  Licen- 
tious laiiguajje  has  fomething  brutal  in  it,  \  ch  dif- 
graces  humanity,  and  leaves  us  in  the  condition  of  the 
lavages  in  the  lield.  But  it  may  be  alked,  To  what 
good  \xi^^  can  tend  a  diicourfe  or  this  kind  at  all  ?  It  is 
to  alarm  chafle  ears  againfl  fuch  as  have  what  is  above 
called  the  prevailing,  gentle  art.  Mailers  of  that  tal- 
ent are  capably  of  clothing  their  thoughts  in  fo  foft  a 
drefs,  and  fomething  lo  diitant  irom  the  fecret  purpofe 
cf  their  heart,  that  the  imagination  of  the  unguarded 
is  touched  with  a  fondnefs  which  grows  too  inlenfibly 
to  be  refiiled.  Much  care  and  concern  for  the  lady's 
welfare,  to  feem  afraid  left  Ihe  fhould  be  annoyed  by 
the  very  air  which  furrounds  her,  and  this  uttered 
rather  with  kind  looks,  and  expreffcd  by  an  interjec- 
tion, an  Oh,  or  an  Ah,  at  fome  iiitle  hazard  in  moving 
or  making  a  fb.^p,  thaii  in  any  dire<^?L  profcihcn  of  love, 
arc  the  methods  of  (Icilful  admirers  :  They  are  honed 
arts  when  their  purpofe  is  fuch,  but  infamous  v.hen 
mifiipplied.  It  is  certain  that  many  a  young  v/oman 
in  this  town  has  had,  her  heart  irrecoverably  won,  by 
men  who  have  not  made  one  advance  which  ^ies  their 
admirers,  though  the  females  languifn  with  the  utmoll: 
anxiety.  I  have  often  by  way  of  admonition  to  my 
female  readers,  given  them  warning  again [f  agreeable 
company  of  the  other  lex,  except  they  are  well  ac- 
quainted with  their  characters  :  Women  may  difguife 
it  if  they  think  fit  \  and,  the  more  to  do  it,  they  may 
be  angry  at  me  for  faying  it  \  but  I  fay  it  is  natural  to 
to  them  that  they  have  no  manner  of  approbation  of 
men  without  fome  degree  of  love.  For  this  reafon, 
he  is  danjrerous  to  be  entertained  as  a  friend  or  vifi« 


5$  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

tant,  v/ho  is  capable  of  gaining  any  en:iinent  efleem  or 
obfervaiion,  though  it  be  ever  To  remote,  from  preten- 
lions  as  a  lover.    ^If   a  man's  heart  has  not  the  abhor- 
rence of  any  treaclHTous  defig-;,  he  may  ea^ly  improve 
approbation    into  kindneis,  and  kindnels  into  paihonv  I 
Tiiere  pofiibly   n^ay-  be  no  manner  of   love  bcfv/een  \ 
them  in   the  eyes  of  all  their   rxquaintance  ;  no,  it  is  I 
iiU  fri(t;ndfhip  ;  and  yet  they  may  be  as  fond    as  ibep.. 
h.erd   and   ihepherdcfs  in   a    paftcrnl  ;     but  Hill  the 
nymph  ».nd  the  fwain  maybe  to  ench  other,   no  cth-»l 
er,  1  wai  rant  you,  than  Pjla^es  and  Orejles. 

17 hen  Lncv  decks  nxiith  fto^ers  her  fvjeliir'ig  hreafi^  | 

And  en  her  cllo^v  leans ^  cijjcnihiitig  rejt  \ 

Vnaile  to  refrain  ?::y  maadihihg  mind^  \ 

Nor  Jhcep  mr  jafiun  'ixorth  tny  cci/e  I  find. 

Once  Delia  /V/.',  on  eafy  rnojs  reillnd^  J 

Her  lovely  lintbs  lialf  lure,  and  rude  the  ^'ind  ; 
/  fmootKd  her  coatSy  and  Jlole  a  Jiient  kij)  j 
Condemn  mc^  Jhep-yerds^  if  I  did  ur/iif. 

Such    good    offices    as  thefe,    and    fuch  friendly 
thoughts    and  concerns  for    one  another,    are   what  i 
makes  up  the  amity,  as  they  call  it.  between  man  and'ii 
vom^n. 

It  is  the  permiiTion  of  fuch  intercourfe,  that  m.akes 
a  young  woman  come  to  the  arms  of  litr  hufband,  af-  ] 
tcr  the  difappointment  of  four  or  iive  pafTions,  which 
ilie  has  fucceiFively  had  for  diff-rent  men,  before   flie 
is  prudeiuially  given  to  him,  for   whom  ihz  has  nei- 
ther   love  nor  irlendiliip.       For  what  fhould  a  poor 
creature   do    thr.t  has  lofl    all    her  friende  ?  There's 
Murinet  the  agreeable,  has,  to  my  knowltdge,  had  a 
friendihip  for  Lord  Welford^  which  had   like  to  break 
her  hear:  :    Then    Ihe  had    ^{^  great  a  friendfiiip   for  j 
Colonel  Hardyy  tiiat  ibe  could  not  endure  any  woman  \ 
elfe  inould  do  any  thing  but  rail  at  him.     Many  and  . 
fatal  have   been   difalters  between  friendsWho  have  \ 
fallen  out  \  and  thefe  refentments  are  more  keen  than  \ 
ever  thofe  of  other  men  can  pofnbly  be  :  But  in  this  '\ 
it  happens  unfortunately,  that  as  I'lere  ought  to  be  no- 
thing concealed  from  one  friend  to  ^AOther,  the  frienJi,  \ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  59 

of  different  texes  very  often   find  fatal   effects  from 
their  unanimity. 

For  my  part,  wlio  (ludy  to  pafs  life  in  as  much  in- 
nocence and  tranquility  as  I  can,  I  fiiun  the  company 
of  agreeable  women  as  much  as  poflible  ;  and  mult 
confefy  that  I  have,  though  a  tolerable  good  philofo- 
pher,  but  a  low  opinion  of  Platonic  love  5  for  which 
realon  I  thouirht  it  neceflriry  to  give  my  fair  readers  a 
caution  againil  it,  having,  to  my  great  concern,  ob- 
ferved  the  waift  cii  a  Platonilt  lately  fvvell  to  a  round- 
nefs  which  is  inconliilent  with  tJiat  phiicfopiiy. 

Spectator,  Volv  VI.  No.  40c.  T. 


•ANACREON's  Inftm^ion  to  a  Painter  to  paint  his 
Mijirejs. 

,.  -^  ES  r  and  happiejt  artizan, 
Befi  of  pai-itersy   if  you  can 
With  vour  mnny  colcur'^d  t:rt 
P,,int  the  ?iiij}refi  of  my  heart  ; 
Df'fcnhe  the  chunns  you  hear  fmm  me, 
(Her  charms  you  c  uld  not  paint  and  fee) 
And  make  the  ahfent  nymph  appear ^ 
As  if  her  lovely  flfnvas  here. 
Tirfl^  dra-M  her  eaf  flo~uci>g  hair 
As     eft  a>d  black  as  jhe  is  far  ; 
And  if  your' art  can  rife  Jo  ht^h,' 
Let  breathi  g  odours  round  her  fly, 
Benrath  the  jhaae  oj  foix  ing  jety 
TJie  i'v'r    forehead  fmoothlvftt  \ 
With  ca*e  the  fihle  brs-ivs  extend^ 
And  in  tivo  arc/;ej  fricely  bend  : 
That  the  /uir  fpa^e  ivhich  lies  hetivren 
^  he  miiting  [Jiade,  may  fdrce  he  feen. 
7  he  eye  jmfl  he  uncommon  fire  \ 
Spurkley  hin^iiijlyy  and  defire  ; 
'7/'-6  flames  unfecn  muji  yet  be  felt^ 
Line  i^ailas  kill,  like  Venus  melt, 
I  he  rnfy  cheeks  mufi  fcem  to  glonvy 
Amidji  the  ivhile  of  ne^w  faVCn  fno^n* 
Let  her  lips  pJrfarfJo^i  ivear, 


6v  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

In  Jihnce  elegantly  fair  ; 
j^s  if  the  blujhing  rinjals  Jtroviy 
Breathing  and  inviting  love  : 
Belon-u  tie  chin  be  Jure  to  deck 
With  ev^T),  grace  her  polijh^d  neck  ; 
lllyiie  all  that^s  pretty y  Joft  and  J\veefy 
In  the  five  Hi  Kg  hofom  meet  : 
The  rej}  in  purple  gurmenis  njeil. 
Her  bodxy  not  tier  Jhats^  conceal  ; 
Enowrh — the  lo'^oely  ivor<  is  done  ; 
''I he  Oteathing  paint  njoill  fpeak  anon. 

Guardian,  Vol.  XL  No.  i(58. 


ANATOMY. 

j[^  HOSE  who  >'VCi^  fkillecl  in  anatomy  among  the  an- 
tic! it;5,  concluded  from  the  outward  and  inward  make 
of  a  humc.n  bo* 'ly,  that  it  was  the  work  of  a  being 
tranfcL-ndently  w^fe  and  powerful.  As  the  world 
grew  more  enlightened  in  this  art,  their  difcoveries 
gave  them  frcfli  opportunities  of  admiring  tlie  conduct 
of  Providence  in  the  formation  of  a  human  body. 
Galen  was  converted  by  his  dilie<£l;ions,  and  could  not 
but  own  a  fuprevne  being,  upon  a  furvey  of  this  his 
handy  work,  fhere  were  indeed  many  parts,  of  which 
the  old  anatomills  did  not  know  the  certain  ufe  ;  but 
as  thev  faw  that  moft  of  thofe  which  thev  examined, 
were  adapted  with  admirable  art  to  their  leveral  func- 
tions,they  did  not  qneftion  but  thofe  wlipfe  ufes  they 
could  not  determine,  v/ere  contrived  with  the  fame 
Avifdom  for  their  refpe6rive  ends  and  purpofes.  Since 
tke  circulation  of  tlie  blood  has  been  found  out,  and 
many  other  j;reat  difcoveries  have  been  made  by  our 
modern  anatomifts,  we  fee  new  wonders  in  the  hu- 
man frame,  and  difcern  feveral  important  ufes  for 
thofe  parts  which  the  antients  kne^  nothing  of.  In 
ihort,  the  body  of  man  is  fuch  a  fubjecb,  as  (lands  the 
utmofl  tell  of  examination.  Though  it  appears  form- 
ed with  the  niceft  wifdom,  upon  x^ViS,  moft  fuperficial 
.furvey  of  it,  it  Iliil  meads  upon  the  fcarcl^  and  pro- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  «i 

«^-aces  our  furprife  and  amnzement  in  proportion  as 
we  pry  into  it.  What  1  have  here  f.iid  of  a  Immaa 
body,  may  be  applied  to  the  body  of  every  animal, 
which  has  been  the  fubjecl  of  anatomical  obfcrva- 
tions. 

The  body  c{  an  animal  is  an  object  adequate  to 
our  fenfes  ;  it  is  a  particular  fyftem-of  Providence  that 
lies  in  a  narrow  compafs  :  the  eye  is  abl-e  to  command 
"it,  and,  by  (ucceiTive  inquiries,  -can  fearch  into  all  its 
parts.  Could  the  body  of  the  whole  eailh.,  or  indeed 
the  whole  univerfe,  be  thus  fubmitted  to  the  examin- 
ation of  our  fenfes,  were  it  not  too  big  and  difprcpor- 
tioncd  to  our  incjuirieSj-too  unwieldly  ior  the  mani-gc- 
ment  of  the  eye  and  hand,  there  is  no  qucRion  but  it 
would  appear  to  us  as  curious  arkl  well  contrived  a 
frame,  as  that  of  a  human  body.  We  (hould  f.^e  the 
fame  concatenation  and  fubfervi<-:ncy,  the  flnne  beaut-y 
and  harmony  in  all  and  every  one  of  its  parts,  as  we 
difcover  in  the  body  of  every  Tingle  animal. 

The  more  extended  our  realon  is,  and  the  more  abl& 
to  grapple  with  immenfe  objects,  the  greater  dill  arc 
>thofe  difcovcries  which  it  makes  of  wifdom  and  prov- 
■jdence  in  the  works  of  the  creation.  A  Sir  f/iac  -AVti^ 
-y^w,  who  ibmds  up  as  the  miracle  of  the  prefent  age, 
can  look  through  a  whol-e  planetary  fyflem  ;  cenfider 
lit  in  its  weight,  number,  and  mealure  •,  and  draw 
from  it  as  many  demonftrations  of  infinite  power  and 
vifdom,  as  a  more  confinenl  underftanding  -is  able  to 
<leduce  from  the  fyflem  of  a  human  body. 

But  to  return  to  our  fpeculations  en  anatomy,  I 
^lall  hereconfider  the  fabric  and  texture  af  the  bo- 
-dies  of  animak  in  one  particular  view  ;  which,  in  my 
opinion,  fliows  ths  hand  of  a  thinking  and  all-wife 
.Being,  m  their  formation,  with  the  evidence  of  a 
thouland  demondrations.  I  think  we  may  lay  thi§ 
■down  as  an  inconteited  principle,  that  chance  never 
-adts  in  a  perpetual  uniformity  and  confidence  with 
-itfelf.  If  one  fhould  aKvays  fling  the  fame  number 
with  ten  thoufand  dice,  or  fee  every  throw  juit  five 
-times  lefs,  -or  five  times  more  in  number  than  the 
tlirow  which  immcdiatelv  preceded  it;  who  would  not 
'   I' 


ez  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

imr.^lne  there  was  feme  invifible  power  which  dire£^- 
ed  t^e  call  ?  This  is  the  proceedings  which  we  find  m 
the  operations  of  nature  :  every  kind  of  animal  is  di- 
verfiiied  by  different  magnitudes,  each  of  which  gives 
rife  to  a  difrerent  fpecies.  Let  a  man  trace  the  dog 
or  lion  kind,  and  he  will  obferve  hovv--  many  of  the 
M'ovks  of  nature  are  publifhcd,  if  I  may  ufe  the  cx- 
prefTicn,  in  a  variety  of  editions.  If  we  look  into  the  ♦ 
reptile  world,  or  into  thofe  different  kinds  of  animals 
that  fill  the  element  of  water,  we  meet  with  the  fame 
repetitions  among  fcverrd  fpecies  that  differ  very  little 
from  one  aiicther  but  in  fize  and  bulk.  You  fnid  the 
fame  creature  that  is  drawn  at  large,  copied  Qut  in 
:fever2l  proportions,  and  ending  in  miniature.  It  would 
•be  tedious  to  produce  inftances  cf  this  regular  con- 
•dud:  of  Providence,  as  it  would  be  fuperfluous  to  thofe 
^'ho  are  verfed  in  tiie  natural  hiftcry  of  animals.  1  he 
magniiicent  harmony  is  fuch,  that  we  may  obftrve 
innumerable  4t%'ifiohs  running  upon  the  fame  grciind. 
I  might  alfo  extend  this  fpeculation  to  the  dead  parts 
of  nature,  in  which  v/e  (intl  matter  difpofed  into  ma- 
ny fimilar  fyfbems,  as  well  in  our  furvey  of  (lars  and 
-planets,  as  of  floncs,  vegetables,  and  other  fublunary 
parts  of  the  creation.  In  a  word,  providence  has 
fhowFi  the  richnefs  of  its  gcodnefs  and  wifdom,  not 
only  in  the  p^odu^ion  of  many  original  fpecies,  but 
in  the  multiplicity  of  defcants  which  it  has  made  on 
every  orignai  fpecies  in  particular. 

But  to  p.urfue  this  thought  dill  farther  :  every  liv- 
ing creature,  ccnridercd  in  itfelf,  has  many  very  com- 
plicated parts,  that,  are  exaft  copies  of  fome  other 
parts  which  it  poileffe%  and  which  are  complicated  in 
the  fame  manner.  One  eje  would  have  been  fuffi- 
cient  for  the  fubri(l:ence  and  prefervation  of  an  ani- 
mal ;  but  in  order  to  better  his  condition,  we  fee  an- 
other placed  v/ith  a  mathematical  exa6tnefs  in  the  fame 
mofl:  advantageous  fituation^  and  in  every  particular 
of  the  fame  hz-2  and  texture.  Is  it  pofiible  for  chance 
to  be  thus  ileiicate  and  uniform  in  her  operations? 
Should  a  million  of  dice  turn  up  twice  together  the 
fame  number,  the  wonder  would  fee  nothing,  compa*^ 


ADDISONIAN   MISCELLANY.  6j 

e<l  to  this  ;  but  when  we  fee  this  fimilitude  and  re- 
fembiance  in  the  arm,  the  hand,  the  fingers  ;  when 
we  lee  one  half  of  tlKi  body  entirely  correfpond  with 
the  other  in  all  thole  minute  ilrok^s,  without  which  a 
m^n  might  have  very  well  rubfifted  ;  nay,  when  we 
often  fee  a  fmgle  part  repeated  a  hundred  times  in  the 
fame  body,  notwithdanding  it  confifts  of  the  moft  in- 
tricate weaving  of  numberl.'fs  fibres,  and  ihefe  |"arts 
differing  flill  in  magnitude,  as  the  convenience  of  their 
particular  fituation  requires  ;  fure  a  man  muft  liave 
a  flrange  caR  of  undtrflanding,  who  does  not  difcov- 
er  the  finger  of  God  in  fo  wonderful  a  work.  Thefe 
duplicates  in  thofe  parts  of  the  body,  without  which 
a  man  might  have  very  well  fubhfted,  though  not  fo. 
well  as  v/ith  tliem,  are  a  plain  d.:moni'tr.3tion  cf  au 
All-wifr  Contriver  •,  as  thofe  more  numerous  copyin^^s, 
which  are  found  among  the  vcll-ils  of  the  iwAz  bodv, 
are  evident  demonftrations  that  tliey  could  not  be  tn&' 
work  of  chance.  This  argument  receives  addition.il 
ilrength,  if  we  apply  it  to  every  animal  and  infeft 
within  our  knowledge,  as  well  as  to  thofe  numberlefs 
iiving  creatures  that  are  obje£ls  too  minute  for  a  hu- 
iTian  eve  :  and  if  wc  confider  how  the  feveral  fpecies 
in  this  whole  world  of  life  refemble  one  another  in  Ve- 
ry many  particulars,  fo  far  as  it  is  convenient  for  their 
refpeclive  flales  cf  exiflence  ;  it  is  much  mere  proba- 
ble that  an  hundred  millions  of  dice  fhould  be  cafual- 
ly  thrown  a  hundred  millioi^s  of  times  in  the  fame 
number,  than  that  the  body  of  any  fngie  ;.ninrai 
fhould  be  produced  by  the  fortuitous  cojicourfe  cf 
matter.  And  that  the  like  chance  f!)culd  aiife  in  in- 
Bumerable  initances,  requires  a  degree  of  credulity  that 
is  not  under  the  direction  of  common  fenfe.  "SVii 
may  carry  tliis  confideration  yet  farther,  if  we  reflect 
en  tlie  two  faxes  in  every  living  fpecies,  with  their  re- 
fembjances  to  each  other,  and  thofe  particul^.r  diitinc- 
tions  that  were  necefiary.  for  keeping  up  this  great 
world  of  life. 

.;    There  are  many  more  demonflrations  of  a  fuprcme  . 
3png,  and  of  his  tranfcendent  vifdom,    power,  and 
goodnefs,  ii  the  formatioa   of  the  body  of  a. living 


it4  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

creature,  for  which  I  refer  my  reader  to  other  urittngSJ, 
particularly  to  the  fixth  book  of  i]:^,'  poem  entitled 
Creation^  where  the  snatomy  of  the  human  body  is  de- 
fcribed  wish  great  perfpicuity  and  elegance.  1  have 
beea  particular  on  the  thought  which  runs  thrcugh 
ihis  (peculation,  beeaufe  1  have  not  feen  it  enlarged 
wpcn  by  others. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VII.  No.  543.    O. 


ANCESTRY. 

__£j[uRACE,  jwveual,  Boileauy  and  indeed  the  grent- 
«ll  writers  in  almoft  every  age,  have  cxpcfed,  with 
wit  and  gccd  fenie,  the  vanity  of  a  man's  valuing  him- 
iiiiif  upon  his  anceitovs,  t-ind  endeavoured  to  fhow  that 
true  nobility  confiits  ia  virtue,  not  in  birth.  With 
fubmiirion  however  to  fuch  very  great  authorities,  I 
think  they  have  puihed  this  matter  a  little  too  far. 
V/e  ought,  in  gratitude,  to  honour  the  poileriiy  of 
thofe  v/ho  have  raifed  cither  tlie  intereil  or  reputation 
cf  their  country,  and  by  whofe  labours  we  curfelvcs 
are  more  happy,  wife,  or  virtuous,  than  we  fliould  have 
been  without  tliem.  Befidcs,  naturrdly  fpeaking,  u 
man  bids  fairer  for  greatnefs  of  foul,  who  is  the  de- 
fcendant  of  worthy  anceilavs,  and  has  good  blood  ia 
his  veins,  than  one  who  is  come  of  ignoble  and  ob- 
fcurc  parentage.  For  thtfe  reafons,  1  think  a  man.  of 
merit,  who  is  derived  from  an  illuftrious  line,  is  very 
jiiUly  to  be  regarded  more  than  a  man  of  equal  merit 
xvho  has  no  claim  to  hereditary  honours  :  nay,  I  think 
thofe  who  are  indifferent  in  themfeives,  and  have  no- 
thirt  elfe  to  diilinguidi  them  but  the  virtues  of  tlieir 
ioretathers,  are  to  be  looLed  upon  with  a  degree  of 
veneration  even  upon  that  account,  and  to  be  more 
refpeded  than  the  common  run  of  men  who  are  of 
Icvv  and  vulgar  extra£lion. 

After  havhig  thus  afcribed  due  honours  to  birth 
and  parentage,  I  muft  however  take  notice  of  thofe 
who  arrogate  to  themfeives  more  honours  than  are 
due  to  them  on  this  account.     The  fnlt  are  fuch  wht 


' 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  <Jj: 

are  not  enough  fennble  that  vice  and  ignorance  tiints 
tiie  blood,  and  that  an  unworthy  behaviour  degrades 
and  difcnnobles  a- man  in  the  eye  of  the  \rorld,  as 
much  as  birth  and  family  aggrandize  and  exalt  him. 

The  fecond  are  thofe  who  believe  a  reiv  man  of  an 
elevated  merit,  is  not  more  to  be  honoured  than  an  in- 
fignificant  and  wortlilefs  man,  who  is  defcended  from 
a  long  line  of  patriots  and  heroes  ;  or,  in  other  words, 
behold  with  contempt  a  perfon  'a  ho  is  fuch  a  man  as 
the  flrft  founder  of  their  family  was,  upon  whcfe  re- 
putation they  value  themfelves. 

But  I  Ihall  chieiiy  apply  myfelf  to  thofe  whofe 
quality  fits  uppermoit  in  all  their  difeourfes  and  be- 
haviour. An  empty  man  of  a  great  family,  is  a  crea- 
ture that  is  fcarce  converfable.  You  read  his  anrcf- 
try  in  his  fmile,  in  his  air,  in  his  eye-brow.  He  has 
indeed  nothing  but  his  nobility  to  give  employment 
to  his  thoughts.  Rank  and  precedency  are  the  impor- 
tant points  which  he  is  always  difcufling  within  Jiim- 
felf.  A  gentleman  of  this  turn  began  a  fpeech  in  one 
of  king  Charles* s  parliaments^   5;V,  I  had  the  bcrcur  to  he 

horn  at  a  time upon  which  a  rough  honcfl  gentleman 

took  him  up,{hort  :  I  ^u-ouLi  faJn  k»o<w  nvhat  that  ^eKfic- 
nan  means  :  Is  i/^rc  any  one  in  this  houfe  iv/io  has  not  had  the 
honour  to  be  born  as  ivellas  himfilf  ?  The  good  fenfe  which 
feigns  in  our  nation,  has  pretty  well  deftroyed  this  ftar- 
clied  behaviour  among  men  who  have  fecn  the  world, 
and  know  that  every  gentleman  will  be  treated  upon  n 
footing  of  equality.  But  tliere  are  many  who  have 
had  their  education  among  women,  dependants  or 
flatterers,  that  lofe  all  the  refpec\  which  would  oth- 
er wile  be  paid  them,  by  being  too  afliduous  in  procur- 
ing it. 

My  lord  Froth  has  been  fo  educated  in  every  pun£lll- 
io,  that  he  governs  himfelf  by  a  ceremonial  in  all  the 
ordinary  occurrences  of  life.  He  meafurcs  out  his  bow 
to  the  degree  of  the  perfon  he  converfes  with.  I, 
have  feen  him  in  every  inclination  of  the  body,  from 
the  familiar  nod,  to  the  low  (loop  in  the  falutation.  ■ 
I  remember  five  of  usj  who  were  acquainted  with  one 
another,  met  one  morning  at  his  lodgings,  when  a  wag 


6d  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ''; 

of  tlie  company  was  faying,  it  would  b«  worth  wlill^<' 
to  obfcrve  now  he  would  didinguiili  us  at  his  fnll  en--^; 
trance.  Accordingly,  he  no  fooner  came  into  the  , 
xooni,  but  cafting  his  eye  about,  My  lord  Juch-a-om^[. 
iAys\\t, your  moft  humble  fet-vunt  \  5;>  R.ichard,  your  hu7n^\, 
lie  fer'van:  ;  ycur  fervant  Mr.  Ironfide,  Mr.  Ducker,. : 
ho'M  do  you  do  ?  hah  !  Frank,  are  you  there  ? 

rhcie  is  nothing  more  eafy  than  to  difcover  a   man 
whofe  heart  is  full  of  his  family.       Weak  minds  that : 
have  imbibed  a  flrong  tincture  of  the  nurfcry  ;  youn- 
ger brothers  who  have  been  brought  up  to  nothings 
lupcrannuatcd  retainers  to  a  great  houfe,  have  gene*;: 
rally  their  thoughts  taken  up  with  little  elfe.  \ 

1  had  fome  years  r.go  an  aunt  of  my  own,  by  narnCr. 
Mrs.  Martha  Ircrjide^  who  would  never  m.arry  be- 
neath herfeif,  and  was  fuppofed  to  have  died  a  maid 
in  the  eightieth  year  of  her  iige.  She  was  the  chron- 
icle of  our  taniily,  and  pail  away  the  greatell  part  of 
the  laft  forty  years  of  her  life,  in  recounting  the  an- 
tiquity, marriages,  exploits  and  alliances  of  the  hor." 
fides,  '  Mrs.  Martha  converfed  generally  with  a  knot 
of  old  virgins,  who  were  llkewife  from  good  families,, 
and  had  been  very  cruel  all  the  beginning  of  the  lait 
century.  They  v*^ere  every  one  of  them  as  proud  as 
Z,;/f/y^r,  but  fiid  thtir  pniyers  twice  a  day,  and  in  all 
other  refpc-cls  v,  ere  the  bed  women  in  the  world.  If 
they  faw  a  finc^petticcat  at  church,  they  imm.ediately 
took  to  pieces  the  pedigree  of  her  that  wore  it,  ana 
would  lift  up  their  eyes  to  Heaven  at  the  confidence 
of  the  fancy  minx,  when  thev  found  flie  was  a  tradef- 
«iar/s  daughter.  It  is  impoi^ible  to  defcribe  the  pi- 
cus  indig.nation  that  would  arife  in  them  at  the  fight 
of  a  man  who  lived  plentifully  on  an  eftate  of  his  own 
getting.  They  were  tranfported  witli  zeal  beyond c 
meafure,  if  they  heard  of  a  young  woman*s  matching 
herft:lf  into  a  great  family  upun  account  only  of  het  ■ 
beauty,  her  merit,  or  her  money.  In  ftiort^  there 
was  not  a. female  within  ten  miles  of  them,  that .  was 
x.i  pofleihon  of  a  gold  watch,  a  pearl  necklace,  or  a 
yiece  of  meeklin  lace,  but  they  examined  her  title  to 
it*    My  auat  Marthsk  wfed  to  ctide  me  very  frecjuent- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  67 

ly  for  not  fufliciently  valuing  myfelf.  Sh<5  would  not 
eat  a  bit  all  dinnertime,  if  at  an  invitation  (lie  found 
fhe  had  been  feated  below  hcrftflf  j  and  would  frown 
unon  me  for  an  hour  togetht-r,  if  (lie  faw  me  give 
place  to  any  one  under  a  baronet.  As  Fwas  once  talking 
to  her  of  a  wealthy  cicfzen  whom  flie  had  refufcd  in 
her  youth,  fhe  declared  to  me  with  gre.it  warmth, 
that  ilie  preferred  a  man  of  quality  in  his  Ihirt  to  the 
richeft  man  upon  the  change  in  a  coach  and  fix.  She 
pretended  that  our  family  was  nearly  related  by  the 
mother's  fide  to  half  a  dozen  peers  -, .  but  as  none  of  , 
them  knew  any  thing  of  the  matter,  we  always  kept  it ; 
a  fecret  among  ourfelves.  A  little  before  her  death, 
flie  was  reciting  to  me  the  hiilory  of  my  forefathers  : 
but  dwellijig  a  little  longer  than  ordinary  upon  tlie  ac- 
tions of  Sir  Gilbsrt  honfide^  who  had  a  horfe  fliot  under  : 
him  at  Edgehill  fight,  i  gave  an  unfortunate  pifli,  and 
alked,  ivhat  iyall  this  io  me  ?  L^pon  whicli  ^^tt  retired 
to  her  clof<;t  and  fell  a  fcribbling  for  three  hours  to- 
gether; in  which  time,  as  I  afterwards  found,  ihe 
ilruck  me  out  of  her  will, ^  and  left  all  Ihe  had  to  my 
filler  Margaret y  a  wheedling  baggage,  that  ufed  to  be 
aJiving  about  her  great  grandfather  from  morning  to 
night.  Slic  now  lies  buried  among  the  family  of  the 
Ironjidesy  with  a  (lone  over  her,  acquainting  tlie  reader, 
that  flie  died  at  the  age  of  eighty  years,  a  fpinder,.  and 
that  (he  was  defcended  of  the  ancient  family  of  the 
honfides ;  after  which  follows  the  genealogy  drawn  up 
by  her  own  hand,  . 

Guardian,  Vol.  XL  No.  147. 


ANCIENT  •WRITERS^  V 

X  IS  not  only  very  common  in  the  mouths  of  pe- 
dants, and  perhaps  in  their  iiearts  too,  to  declare,  that 
all  that  is  govdii  bot-n^wed  frtmtht  ancients  j  but  is  often 
urged  by  men  of  no  great  learning,  for  reafons  very- 
obvious.  Now,  natur*  being  Itill  the  fame,  it 
is  imponibk  for  any  modern:  writer  to  pahit  her  oth» 
erwiie  than  the  aagi^nts  have  doae.  .  Ifi.for.exaiuple* 


C$  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

I  w?.5  to  dcfcribe  the  General's  horfe  at  the  battle  of 
i?//';7/:^/;w  as  my  fancy  repre tented  fuch   a  noble  bead,, 
r.nd  that  clefcription  fnoiild  refemble  wliat  /7ro-z7  hath\ 
tirawn  for  the  horfe  of  his  hero,  it  would  be  almoll  as^. 
ill-natured  to  urge  that  I  had   (lolen  my  defcription 
from  AVr^//,  as  to  r<iproach  the  duke  cf  Marlborough  ior 
fighting   like    jEneas,       All    that   the   rncit  exquiiite 
judgment  can  perform,   is,  out  cf  that  variety  of  cir- 
cumltances  wherein  natural  objecls  may  be  confider- 
ed,  to  felcc^  the  molt  bcautifi  "i  and  to   place    images 
in  fuch  a  view  as  will  alfe6l  the  fancy  after  tl;e   moil 
delightful  manner.     But  over  and  abovs  a  juft  paint- 
ing of  nature,  a  learned  reader  will  find  a  new  beauty, 
fuperadded  in  a  happy  imitation  cf  fome  famous   an- 
cient, as  it  revives  in  his  mind  the  pleafure  he  took  in 
the  firfh  reading  of  fuch  an  author.      Such    copyings 
as  thefe,  give  that  kind  of   double   delight   which  we 
perceive  when,  we  look  upon  the  children  of  a  beauti- 
ful couple  ;  where  the  eye  is  not  iTiOre  charmed  v/ith 
the  fymmetry  of  the  parts,  than  the   mind  by  obferv- 
ing  the  rcfemblance  tranfmitted  from  parents  to  their 
offspring,  and  the  mingled  features  of  the  father  and: 
mother.     The  phrafes  in  holy  writ,  and   allufions  to 
feveral  palTagcs  in  the   infpired   writings,  (though  not; 
produced  as  proofs  of  dodrine)  add  majefty.and  au- 
thority to  the  nobleil  difcourfes  of  the  pulpit  :  In  like 
manner,  an  imitation  of  the  air  oi  Homer  and  Virgil^  rai — 
fcs  the  dignity  of  modern  poetry,  and  ratak^s  it  appear- 
ftatcly  and  venerable. 

GUARDIAN,  Vol.    I.  No.  .12=, 


ANIMALS, 

X  friend  Sir  Roger  is  very  often  merry  witli  me. 
upt  n  my  palFmg  fo  much  of  my  time  amonghis  poul- 
try ;  he  lias  caught  m€  twice  or  thrice  at  a  bird's  neft, 
and  feveral  .times  fitting  an  hour  or  two  together  near 
a  hen  and. chickens.  He  tells  me  he  befieves  I  am 
perfonally  acquainted  with  every  fowl  about  his  houfe, 
calls  fuch  a 'Jjarticular  cock  my  •  favourite,  and  fre- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


6^ 


quently  complains  that  his  ducks  and  geefe  have  more 
of  my  company  than  himfelf. 

I  nmit  confcfs  i  am  infiiiitely  delighted  with  thofe 
fpcculations  of  nature  wliich  arc  to  be  made  in  a 
country  life  :  and  as  my  reading  has  lain  pretty  much 
among  books  of  natural  hiftory,  I  cannot  forbear  rc- 
colleciing  upon  this  occafion,  the  feveral  remarks 
which  I  have  met  with  in  authors,  and  comparing' 
them  with  what  falls  under  my  own  obfervation  ;  the 
arguments  for  Providence  drawn  from  the  natural  hif- 
tory of  animals,  being  in  my  opinion  demonilrative. 

The  make  of  every  kind  of  animal,  is  diffvjrent  from 
that  of  every  other  kind  ;  and  yet  there  is  not  the  leail 
turn  in  the  nuifeles,  or  twill:  in  the  fibres  of  any  one, 
wdiich  does  not  render  them  more  proper  for  that 
particular  animal's  way  of  life,  than  any  other  calt 
or  tf-jxtuve  could  have  been. 

Tlie  moll  violent  appetites  in  all  creatures  are, 
luft  and  hunger  ;  the  firll  is  a  perpetual  call  upon 
them  to  propagate  their  kind,  the  latter  to  preferve 
themfelves. 

It  is  alloni Piling  to  confider  the  different  degrees  of 
care  that  defcend  froai  the  parent  to  the  young,  fo  far 
as  is  iibfolutely  necefiary  for  the  leaving  a  pofterity. 
Some  creatures  call  their  eggs  as  chance  directs  them, 
and  think  of  them  no  farther,  as  infe<fis  and  feveral 
kinds  of  fifli  ;  others,  of  a  nicer  frame,  find  out  pro- 
per beds  to  dcpofit  them  in,  and  there  leave  them,  as 
the  ferpent,  the  crocodile,  and  oflrich.  Otlier:3  hatch 
theli-  e^gs,  and  tend  the  birth  till  it  is  able  to  Ihift  for 
itfelf.  " 

What  can  we  call  the  principle  which  direcls  every 
kind  of  bird  to  obferve  a  particular  plan  in  the  ftruc- 
ture  of  its  ne(t,  and  diretls  all  of  the  fame  fpecies  to 
work  after  the  fame  model  ?  It  cannot  be  bnitation ; 
for  though  you  hatch  a  crow  under  a  hen,  and  never 
let  it  fee  any  of  the  works  of  its  own  kind,  tlie  nefl: 
it  makes  fliall  be  the  fame  to  the  laying  of  a  Itick,  with 
all  other  netls  of  the  fiune  fpecies.  It  cannot  be  rea- 
fon  \  for  were  animals  endued  with  it  to  as  great  a  de- 
gree as  man,  their  buildings  would  be  as  dllfereut  ai- 


70  ADDISONIAN  MI  SCELL ANY. 

ours,  according  to  the  diflerent  conveniences  that  they 
"would  propol'e  to  thcmfeives. 

Is  it  not  remarkable,  that  the  fame  temper  of  weath-. 
er  wliich  railes  this  general  warmth  in  animals,  (liould 
cover  the  trees  v>'ith  leaves,  and  the  fields  with  grais, 
for  tkeir  fecurity  and  concealment,  and  produce  fucii 
infinite  fwaims  of  inftdts,  for  the  fuitenance  of  their 
refpe61ive  broods  r 

Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  love  of  the  parent  fliould  , 
be  fo  violent  while  it  lafts,  and   thajt  it   fiiould  iaft  no 
longer    than  is  neceflary   for  the   prefervation   oi  the 
young  ? 

Tlie  violence  of  this  natural  love  is  ejcempliried  by  a 
very  barbarous  experiment,  which  I  iliall  quote  at 
length,  as  I  lind  it  in  an  excellent  author  ;  and  hope 
mv  readers  will  pardon  the  mentioning  luch  an  in- 
Ibnce  of  cruelty,  becaufe  there  i>  nothing  can  fo  cf- 
fedtually  fhow  the  ftrengtli  of  that  principle  in  ani- 
mals of  which  I  am  now  fpeaking.  ^'  A  perfon  who 
was  well  Ikilled  in  difieiSlions,  opened  a  bitch,  and  as 
fhe  lay  in  the  moft  exquilite  tortures,  offered  her  one 
of  her  young  puppies  which  ftis  immediately  fell  a. 
licking  ;  and  for  the  time  f^emed  infenfible  of  her 
own  pain.  On  the  removal,  ihe  kept  her  eye  fixed 
en  it,  and  began  a  wailing  fort  of  cry,  which  feemed 
rather  to  proceed  from  the  lofs  cf  her  young  one,  than 
from  the  fenfe  of  lier  own  torments."   . 

But  notwithftanding  this  natural  lov€  in  brutes  is, 
much  mcie  vioic:5"!t  and  intenfe  than  in  rational  crea- 
tures, Providence  has  taken  care  that  it  fnould  be  no 
longer  troublefome  to  the  parent,  th^n  it  is  ufeful  to 
the  young  ;  foi  fo  foon  as  the  wa^ts  of  the  latter 
ceafe,  the  mother  withdraws  her  fondnefs,  and  leaves 
them  to  provide  for  themfelves:  and  what  is  a  very 
particular  circumftance  in  this  part  of  inilincl:',  we 
iind  that  the  love  of  the  parent  may  be  lengthened  out 
beyond  its  ufual  time,  if  the  prefervation  of  the  fpe- 
cies  requires  it  ;  as  we  fee  in  birds  that  drive  away 
their  young  as  foon  as  they  are  able  to  get  their  liveli- 
h.ood,  but  continue  to  feed  them  if  they  are  tied  to  the 
neft,  or  confined  within  a  cage,  or  by  any  other  meai^.^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  71 

appear  to  be  out  of  a  condition  of  lupplying  their  own 
njcelfities. 

This  niitiiral  love  is  not  obferved  in  animals  to  af- 
cend  from  the  young  to  the  parent,  which  is  not  at 
all  neceflavy  for  the  continuance  of  the  fpecies :  nor 
indeed  in  reafonable  creatures  does  it  rile  in  any  pro- 
portion, asitfprcads  itfclf  downwards  ',  for  in  all  family^ 

,  ?.{yei!:lion  we  iind  protedlion  granted,  and  favours  be- 
llowed, are  greater  motives  to  love  and  tenderncfs 
than  fafety,  benefits,  or  life  received. 

One  would  wonder  to  hear  fceptical  men  difputing 

.  for  the  r^/7^'o«  of  animals,  and  telling  us  it  is  only  our 
piide  and  prejudices  that  will  not  allow  them  the  ufc 
of  that  faculty.  R?nfon  Piiows  itfelf  in  all  the  occur- 
rences of  life  j  whereas  the  brute  makes  no  difcovery 
of  fueh  a  talent,  but  in  what  immediately  regards  his 
own  prefervation,  or  the  continuunce  of  his  fpecies. 
Animals  in  their  generation  are  wifer  than  the  fons  of 
men  \  but  their  wifdom  is  confined  to  a  few  particu- 
lars,   and   lies   in    a    very  narrovv'  compafs.     Take  a 

.•brute  out  of  his  inRincl:,  and  you  nnd  him  wholly  de- 

liprived  of  underllanding.     To    ufe   an  infbance    that 

'-comes  often  under  obfervation. 

With  what  caution  does  the  hen  provide  hcrfelf  a 
r.cd  in  places  unfrequented,  and  free  from  noife  and 
^iifturbance  !  When  (lie  has  laid  her  eggs  in  fuch  a 
manner  that  flie  can  cover  them,  what  care  does  fhe 
take  in  turning  them  frequently,  tlvat  all  p^rts  may- 
partake  of  the  vital  warmth  I  When  (lie  leaves  them 
to  provide  for  her  necefi^iry  fullenance,  how  pun61:u- 
ally  does  ilie  return  b^^fore  they  have  time  to  cool,  and 
become  incapable  of  ..producing  an  animal  I  In  fum- 
mer  you  lecher  giving  herfelf  greater  freedoms,  and 
quitting  her  car:  for  above  two  hours  together  ;  but 
in  winter,  whcTi  t!ie  rigour  of  the  feafon  would  chill 
the  principles  of  life^  and  deftroy  the  young  one,  {he 
grows  more  alFiduous  in  her  atccndance^  and  itays  a- 
v/ay  but  half  the  time  When  the  birth  approaches, 
with  how  niucli  nicety  and  attention  does  flie  help  the 
<:hick  to  break  its  pr-ifon  !  Not  to  tske  notice  of  her 
covering  it  from  the  injuries  of  the  weather,  providing 


71  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

it  proper  nouiinmient,  and  teaching  it  to  help  itfelf  ; 
iior  to  mention  her  foifaking  the  ncfl,  if,  ai'ter  the* 
iifua\  lime  of  reckoning,  the  young  one  does  not  make.; 
its  appearance.  A  chyniical  operation  could  not  be 
followed  with  greater  art  or  diligence  than  is  feen  in 
the  hatcliing  oi  a  chick,  though  there  are  many  other 
birds  whicli  lliow  an^  infinitely  greater  fsgacity  in  all 
the  ibre-mentioned  p.irticulars. 

J3ut  at  the  fame  time,  the  hen,  that  has  all  tliis 
feemingingcnviity,  (which  is  indeed  abfoiutcly  necefla- 
ry  for  the  propagation  of  the  fpecies)  coufidered  in- 
other  rcfpects,  is  M'ithout  the  lead  glimmering  of 
thought  or  common  fenfc.  She  miftakes  a  piece  of 
chalk  for  an  egg,  and  fits  upon  it  in  the  fam.e  m.anner  : 
She  is  infenhbie  of  any  increafe  or  diminution  in  the 
number  nf  thofe  fhe  lays  :  She  does  not  diftinguifh 
betM'cen  her  own  and  thofe  of  another  fpecies",  and 
■vvhcn  the  biith  appears  of  ever  fo  different  a  bird, 
will  cherifli  it  for  her  own.  In  all  thefe  circumftan^ 
ces,  wj;ich  do  net  carry  an  immediate  regard  to  the 
fubiifbncc  of  herfelf  or  her  fpecies,  fhe  is  a  very 
tdeot. 

There  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  any  thing  more  myde- 
riouii  in  nature  than  this  inftiiitl.  in  animals,  which 
thus  rifes  above  reafon,  and  falls  infinitely  fliort  of  it. 
It  cannot  be  accounted  for  by  any  properties  in  mat- 
ter, and  at  the  fame  time  works  after  fo  odd  a  manner, 
that  (»ne  cannot  but  think  it  the  faculty  of  an  intel- 
)eclual  Beirig.  For  my  ov/n  part,  I  look  upon  it  as 
upon  tlie  principle  of  gravitation  in  bodies,  which  is 
not  to  be  explained  by  any  known  qualities  inherent 
in  ih;i  bodies  themfelvcs,  nor  from  any  laws  of 
mech;:nifm  ;  but,  aceoiding  to  the  bcil  notions  of  the 
gr^ar'^ft  philofophers,  is  an  immediate  impreffion  from 
me  I  irll  Mover,  and  tlie  the  divine  energy  acting  in 
the  creatures. 

-Spectator,  Vol.  II.  No,  i2o.  L. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  73 

AMUSEMENT  of  LIFE. 

^  y  E  all  of  us  complain  of  the  fhortncfs  of  time,  faith 
Seneca^  and  yet  have  much  more  than  wc  know  what 
to  do  with.  Our  lives,  fays  he,  are  fpent  either  in  do- 
ing nothing  at  all,  or  in  doing  nothing  to  the  purpofe, 
or  in  doing  nothing  that  we  ought  to  do.  We  are  al- 
ways complaining  that  our  days  are  few,  and  acling  as 
ii  there  could  be  no  end  of  them. 

I'hat  noble  philofopher  has  defcribed  our  inconfif- 
{cncy  with  ourfclves  in  this  particular,  by  al!  thofe  va- 
rious   turns  of  expveflion  and  thought  vliich  are  pe- 
culiar to  his  \yitings.     I    often   confidcr  mankind  as 
wholly  incoiuiilent  with  itfelf,  in  a   point    that   bears 
fonie  affmity  to  the  former  :  '-i'liough  we  feem  grieved 
at  the  fhortnefs  of  hfe  in  general,  we  are  wifliing  eve- 
ry period  of  it  at  an  end.  I'lie  minor  longs  to  beat  age, 
then  to  be  a  man  of  bufinefs,  then  to  make  up  an  ef- 
t  it^,  then  to  arrive  at  honours,  then  to  retire.     Thus, 
though  ourwhole  life  is  allowed  by   every   one  to  be 
fiiort,  the  feveral  divifions  of  it  appear  to  be  long  and 
tedious.     We  are  for  lengthening  our  fpan  in  general, 
but  would  contra6l  the  parts  of  which  it  is  compofed. 
Tiie  ufurer  would  be  very  well  fatisfied  to  have  all  the 
time  annihilated    that    lies   between  the  prefent  mo- 
ment and  next  quarter-day.     The  politician  would  be 
contented  to    lofe  three  years  in   his  life,  could   he 
place  things  in  the  poilure  which  he  fancies  they  will 
(land  in  attcr  fuch  a  revolution  of  time.     The  lover 
would  be  glad  to  llrike  out  of  his  exiftcnce  all  the  mo- 
ments that  are  to  pafs  away  before  the  happy   meet- 
ing.    Thus  as  fait  as    our  time  runs,  we  ihould  be 
very  glad,  in  mod  parts  of  our  lives,  that  it  ran  much 
fafler  than  it  does.     Several  hours    of  the  day  hang 
upon  our  hands  ;  nay,  we  wifh  away  whole  years,  and 
travel  through  time  as  through  a  country  filled  with 
many  wild  and  empty  walles,  which  we  would   fain 
'  hurry  over,  that  we  may  arrive  at  thofe  feveral  little 
fe-ttlements  or  imaginary  points  of  reft  v/hich  ar«  dif*;- 
perfcd  up  and  down  in  it. 

G 


74  ADDISONIAN  MSCELLANY, 

If  we  divide  the  life  of  moft  men  into  twenty  parts, 
we  ihall  find  that  at  lead  r.ineteen  of  them  are  niere 
gaps  and  chafms,  which  are  neither  filled  with  plea- 
lure  or  buduefs.  I  do  not  however  include  in  this 
calculation,  the  life  of  thofe  men  who  are  in  a  perpet- 
ual hurry  of  affairs,  but  of  thofe  only  who  are  not  al- 
ways engaged  in  fcenes  of  a<5tion  :  And  I  hope  I  ihall 
rot  do  an  unaccepta'ble  piece  of  fervice  to  rhofe  per- 
■fons,  if  I  point  out  to  them  certain  methods  for  fiUinaj 
up  their  empty  fpacesofhfe.  The  methods  I  fhaii 
propofe  to  them  are  aG  follow: 

The  firft  is  the  exercife  of  virtue,  in  the  moft  gene- 
ral acceptation  of  the  word.  That  particular  fcbeme 
which  comprehends  the  focial  virtues,  may  give  em- 
^loym.ent  to  the  moil  induftrious  temper,  and  find  a 
man  more  bu-finefs  than  the  mcll;  a^live  ftation  of  life. 
To  advife  the  igncrant,  relieve  the  needy,  comfort  tljc 
.s^uii^led.  -iirc  duties  that  fall  in  our  v/ay  almoll  every 
day  of  our  fives.  A  man  has  frequent  opportunities  of 
mitigating  the  fiercenefs  cf  a  patty,  of  doing  ju (lice 
to  the  character  of  a  deferving  man,  of  foftening  the 
envious,  quieting  the  angry,  and  rectifying  the  pre- 
judiced ;  Vhich  are  all  of  them  employments  fuited 
to  a  reafonablc  nature,  and  bring  great  fatisfa6licn  to 
the  perfon  v.'ho  can  bufy-himfelf  in  them  with  difcre- 
tion. 

There  is  another  kind  of  virtue  that  may  find  em- 
ployment .for  thofe  retired  hours  in  which  we  are  al- 
together lei  t  to  ciirfelves,  and  deditute  of  company 
and  converfation  ;  I  mean  that  intercourfe  and  com- 
munion which  every  leafonable  creature  ought  to 
tain  with  the  Supreme  Being.  The  man  who  liv^es 
under  an  habitual  fenfe  of  the  divine  prefence,  keeps 
up  a  perpetual  cheerfulnefs  of  temper,  and  enjoys  ev- 
ery moment  the  fatisfadion  of  thinking  himfelf  in 
company  with  his  deareft  and  his  beft  ef  friends.  The 
time  never  lies  heavy  upon  him  :  It  is  impoflible  for  • 
him  to  be  alone.  His  thoughts  and  pafiions  are  the  - 
mpfl  bufied  at  luch  hours,  when  thofe  of  other  men 
are  the  moft  unadive.     He  no  focner  fteps  out  of  tl^c 


ADDISON  AN  MISCELLANY.  j^ 

'  world'but  his  heart  burns  with  devotion,  fvvells  with 
hope,  and  triumphs  in  the  confclcufnefs  of  that  Pre- 
fence  which-  every  where  furr;iunds  him  -,  or,  on  tlie 
contrary,  pours  out  its  fears,  its  forrows,  Irs  appre- 
hcnfions,    to   the   great  Supporter   of  its  exiflence. 

1  have  here  only  confidered  the  neceflity  or'a  mar/s 
being  virtuous,  that  lie  may  have  fomething  to  do ; 
but  if  we  confider  farther  that  the  exercife  of  virtue  is 
not  only  an  amufement  for  the  time  it  lafls,  but  that 
its  influence  extends  to  thofe  parts  of  our  exiller.ce 
which  he  beyond  the  grave,  and  that  our  whole  eter- 
nity is  to  take  its  colour  from  thofe  hours  which  we 
here  employ  in  virtue  or  in  vice,  the  argument  redou- 
bles upon  us  for  putting  in  practice  this  method  of 
pa  fli  n  g  a  w  ri  y^  tim e . 

When  a  man  has  but  a  little  flock  to  Improve,  an  1 
hiis  opportunities  of  turjiing  it  all  to  good  accouiit, 
v/hat  Oiall  v/e  think  of  him.  If  he  fullers  nineteen 
parts  of  it  to  lie  dead,  and  perhaps  employs  even  tlie 
twentieth  to  his  ruin  or  difadvantage  ?  i3ut  becaufe 
the  mind  cannot  be  always  in  its  fervour,  nor  flralned 
up  to  a  pitch  of  virtue,  it  is  neceffary  to  find  out  pro- 
per employments  for  it  in  its  reiaxations. 

The  next  method  that  1  would  propofe  to  nil  up 
our  time,  Ihould  be  uftful  and  iniiocent  diveiiions. 
I  mud  conftfs  I  think  it. is  below  reafonable  creatures,. 
to  be  altogether  converfant  in  fuch  diverfions  as  arc: 
merely  Innocent,  and  have  nothing  elfe  to  recommend 
tlicm,  but  that  there  is  no  hurt  in  tliem.  Whether 
any  kind  of  gaming  has  even  thus  much  to  fay  for  rt- 
fclf,  I  Ihail  not  determine  ;  but  I  think  it  is  very  won- 
derful to  fee  perfons^of  the  befl  lenfe  pafhng  away  a 
dozen  hours  together  in  fliufKing  and  dividing  a  p:;wk 
of  cards,  with  no  other  conveif\uion  but  what  is  made 
up  of  a  few  g-ime  phrafes,  and  no  other  ideas  but 
thofe  of  red  or  black  fpots  ranged  together  in  different 
figures.  Would  not  a  man  of  fenft  laugh  to  hear  any 
one  of  this  fpecics  complain  that  life  is  fhort  ? 

The  /fage  might  be  made  a  perpetual  fource  of  the 
mod  noble  and  ufeful  entertainment,  were  it  rnder 
proper  regukticns-     Bat  the  miad  never  unbends  it- 


lS  ADDISONIAN  MiSCELLANY. 

felf  fo  agreeably,  as  in  the  converfaticn  of  a  well  cho- 
fen  friend.  There  is  indeed  no  bleffingof  life  that  is 
any  way  comparable  to  the  eiijoyment  of  a  cifcreet 
and  virtuous  friend.  It  eafes  and  unloads  the  mind, 
clears  and  improves  the  underftanding,  engenders 
thoujjjhis  and  knowledge,  and  animates  virtue  and 
good  refolutions,  fooths  and  allays  the  palhons,  and 
finds  employment  for  mod  of  tne  vacant  hours  of 
life. 

Next  to  fuch  an  Intimacy  with  a  particular  perfon, 
cue  would  endeavour  after  a  in  ore  general  converfa- 
lion  with  fuch  as  are  able  to  entertain  and  improve 
thoie  with  whom  they  converfe,  which  a,re  qualifica- 
tions which  feldom  go  afunder. 

There  are  many  other  ufeful  amufements  of  lif^ 
which  one  would  endeavour  to  multiply,  that  one 
mip;ht  on  all  occanons  have  recourfe  to  lomethinafi 
rather  than,  fuiler  the  mind  to  lie  idle,  or  run  adrift 
with  i.ny  palTion  that  chances  to  rife   in  it. 

A  man  who  has  a  tails  for  mufic,  priming,  or  ar- 
chiteclure,  is  like  one  who  has  another  fenfe,  when 
compared  with  fuch  as  have  no  relilh  for  thofe  arts. 
The  florin,  the  planter,  the  hufDandman,  the  gardener, 
when  they  are  only  as  accompliihments  to  the  man  of 
fortune,  are  great  reliefs  to  a  country  life,  and  many 
ways  ufeful  to  thofe  who  are  pofiefrcd  of  them. 

But  of  all  the  diverfions  of  life  there  is  none  fo  pro- 
per to  fill  up  its  empty  fpaces  as  the  reading  of  ufeful 
und  entertaining  authors  :  but  this  !  fi^all  only  men- 
tion, becaufe  it  in  fome  meafure  interferes  with  the 
third  method,  which  I  (Irall  propofe  in  another  paper, 
for  the  employment  of  our  dead,  inactive  hours,  and 
which  I  fliall  mention  in  general  to  be  the  purfuit  of 
knowledge. 

Spectator,  Vol.  II.  No.  93.  L. 


ANGER.  y 

A/\ 
NGER  is  fo  uneafy  a  gueft  in  the  heart,  that  he 
may  be  faid  to  be  born  unhappy  who  is  of  a  rough  and 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLAIdY.  77 

choleric  difpofidon.  The  moralifts  have  defined  it  to 
be,  a  defire  y  renjenge  for  fqme  injury  offered.  Men  of  hot 
and  headf  tempers,  are  eagerly  defirous  for  vengeance, 
the  very  moment  they  apprehend  themfeh^es  injured  : 
whereas  the  cool  and  fedate  watch  proper  opportuni- 
ties to  return  grief  for  grief  ta  their  enemy.  By  this 
i)ienns  it  often  happens  tliat  the  choleric  inflict  difpro- 
portioned  puniflmients,  upon  flight,  and  fometimes 
imaginary,  offences:  but  the  temperately  revenge- 
ful have  leifure  to  vi^eigh  the  merits  of  the  caufe, 
and  thereby  either  to  fmother  their  fecretrefentments, 
or  to  feek  proper  and  adequate  reparation  for  the 
damages  they  have  fuftained.  Weak  minds  are  apt 
to  fpeak  well  of  the  man  of  Fury,  becaufe,  when  the 
ftorm  is  over,  he  is  fall  of  forrow  and  repentance  : 
but  the  truth  is,  he  is  apt  to  commit  fuch  ravages  du- 
ring his  madnefs,  that  when  he  comes  to  himfelf  he 
becomes  tame  tlien,  for  the  fame  reafon  that  he  ran 
wild  \y<t\Q\'&y  only  to  give  himfelf  eafe  ;  and  is  a  friend  on- 
ly to  himfelf  in  both  extremities.  Men  of  this  uin 
happy  make,  more  frequently  than  any  others,  expect 
that  their  friends  iliould  bear  with  their  inlirmitics  : 
their  friends  fliould  in  return  defire  them  to  correct 
their  innrmities.  The  common  excufes,  that  they 
cannot  help  it,  that  it  was  foon  over,  that  they  har- 
bour no  malice  in  their  hearts,  are  arguments  for  par- 
doning a  bull  or  a  maftiff,  bui  fkall  never  reconcile  mc 
to  an  intellectual  favage.  Why  indeed  fhould  any 
one  imagine,  that  perfons  independent  upon  him, 
Yhould  venture  into  his  fociety,  who  hath  not  yet  fo 
far  fubdued  his  boiling  blood,  but  that  he  is  ready  to 
do  fomething  the  next  minute  which  he  can  never  re- 
pair, and  hath  nothing  to  plead  in  his  own  behalf,  biit 
that  he  is  apt  to  do  mifchief  as  fall  as  he  can  ?  Such 
a  man  may  be  feared,  he  may  be  pitied,  but  can 
never  be  loved. 

I  would  not  here  be  underftood,  as  if  I  meant  to  - 
recommend  flow  and  delit>erate  malice  ;  I  would  only 
obfar-ve,  that  men  of  moderation  are  of  a  more  amia- 
ble character  than  the  ralh  and  inconfiderate ;  but  if 
they  do  not  hufoaiid  the  taleat  thrtt  tieavcn  has  be- 
G  *^ 


^S  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

{lowed  oa  them,  they  are  as  much  more  odious  tlmn 
the  choleric,  as  the    devil  is   more   horrible    than    a 
brute  :  It  is  hard  to  fay  which  of  the  two,   whes.  in- 
jured, is  more  troublefome   to  him-felf,  or   hurtful    to 
his  enemy  :  the  one    is    boifterous  and'gentle  by  fits, 
dividing  his  life  between   guilt  and  repentance,   no\r 
all  tempeft,  again  all  funfliine  -,  the  other  has  a  fmooth- 
er     but     more  ladii^g    anguiOi,     lying   under  a  per- 
petual gloom  ^  the  latter  is  a  cowardly  man,  the  for- 
mer a  generous  beaft.     If  he  may  be  held  unfortunate 
who  cannot  be  fure  but  that  he  may  do  fomcthing  the 
next   minute  which    he   fliall  lament  during  his  life, 
what  (hall  we  think  of  him  who  hath  a  foul  fo  infe6l- 
ed,  that  he  can  nev^r  be  happy  till  Ire  hath   made  an-  i 
other  mnfa'able  ?  Vv'liat    wars  may   we  not   imagine 
perpetually  taging  in  his  breaft  ?    What   dark   ftrata- 
gems,  unworthy   defigns,  inhuman   wiOies,    dreadful 
xelolutions  !  A  fnake  curled  in  many  intricate  mazes, 
ready  to  fting  a  traveller,  and  to  hifs  him  in  the  pangs 
of  death,  is  no  unfit   em-blem  of  fuch   an   artful,  un- 
learchable  projector.     Were  I  to  choofe  an    enemy, 
whether  (hould    I    wlfh  for   one  that  would  flab  me 
.innmediately,   or  one  that   would  give    me  an  Italian 
poifon,  fubtil    and  lingernig,  yet  as  certainly  fatal  as 
the  flroke  of  a  flilletto.     Let  the  reader   determine 
the  doubt  in  his  own  mind. 

There  is  yet  a  thhd  fort  of  revenge,  if  it  may  bs- 
called  a  third,  which  is  compounded  of  the  other  two.; 
I  mean  the  midaken  honour  which  hath  too  often  a 
place  in  generous  breads.  Men  of  good  education, 
thougli  naturally  choleric,  reflrain  their  wrath  fo  far 
as  to  feek  convenient  times  for  vengeance.  The  firi- 
glt  combat  feems  fo  generous  a  way  of  ending  con;-, 
troverfies,  that,  till  we  have  ftricl:  laws,  the  r^umber 
of  widows  'and  orphans,  and  I  wifn  I  could  net  fri.y 
of  wretched  fplrits,  will  be  increafed.  Of  all  th^ 
medals  which  have  been  ftruck  in  honour  of  a  neigh- 
bouring monarch,  there  is  not  one  which  can  give 
him  fo  true  a  renown,  as  that  upon  tht  fuccefs  of  his 
-edirl  {qy  aboli/hing  iht  impious  pradice  of  duelling, 

WLaUncliiicd  ipe  at  pref.nt  to  write  upon.^hi^. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  79 

fubjecl,  was  the  fight  of  the  following  letters,  which 
I  can  afiure  the  reader,  are  genuine.  They  con- 
cern two  noble  names  among  us  ;  but  the  crime  of 
which  the  gentlemen  were  guihy,  bears  too  preva- 
lently the  name  of  honour,  to  need  an  apology  to  their 
relations  for  reviving  the  mention  of  their  duel.  But 
the  dignity  of  wrath,  and  the  ccxol  and  dtiiberate  pre- 
paration (by  pjlhng  different  climes,  and  waiting  conr 
venient  feaions)  for  murdering  each  other,  when  we 
confider  them  as  moved  by  a  (tnk  of  honour,  mull 
raifeia  the  reader  as  much  compaihon  as  horror. 

J  Mo^-.fiiur^  Monjieur  Sackvillc. 

'*  I  that  am  in  France  hear  how  much  you  attribute 
to  yourfelf  in  this  time,  that   I  have  given   the  world 
leave  to  ring  your  praifcb  ^•*''*^**  If  you  call  in  memo- 
ry, whereas  1    gave   you   my    hand  laA,   L  told  yoi.  1 
referved  the  heart  for  a  tiuer    reconciliation.       Nowi 
be  that  noble  gentleman  my  love  once  fpoke  you,  and 
tome  and  do  him  right  that  could  recite  the  trials  you 
owe  your  birth  and  country,  were  I  not  confident  your 
honour  gives  you  the  fame  courage    to    do    me  right,, 
that  it  did  to  ilo  me  wrong.     Be   mafter  of  your  own 
weapons  and  time  •,  the  place  wherefoever,  I  will  wait : 
on  you.     By  doing  this,    you    fliall  fnortcn   revf  nge, . 
and  clear  the  idle  opinion  the  world  hath  of  both  our 
^orth.  EDWARD  BR  UCE.'^ 

A  Moftfaur,  Monjteur  le  Raron  de  KInlofs. 

**  As  it  fliall  be  always  far  from  me  to  fcek  a  quar-. 
rel,  fo  will   I  be  always  ready  to  meet  with  any  that 
defire  to  make  trial  of  my  valour,  by  fo  fair  a    courle 
as  you  require.     A  witnefs  whereof  yourfelf  fhall  bC;, , 
who  within   a  month  fhall  receive  a  ItricSl  accou^it  of. 
time,  place,  and  weapon,  where  you  fliall  find  me  rea- 
dy difpofcd  to  give  you  honourable  fatisfa6lion  by  him 
that   Ihall    condua   you  thither.     In  the  mean  time,. 
be  as  fecret  of  the  appcintmcnt  as  it  feemg  you  are  de- 
firou§  gfit. 

«  EDWARD  SAGKVJLLE.'! 


3*  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

A  Monfteur,  Movjteur  te  Baron  c'e   Kinlofs. 

<«  I  am  ready  at  Ter^ofo,  a  town  in  7.ealand^  to  give- 
you  that  fatisfuftlon  your  fword  can  render  you,  ac- 
companied by  a  worthy  gentleman  for  my  fecond,  in 
degree  a  knight  :  and  for  your  coming,  I  will  not  Hm- 
it  you  a  percmpto- y  day,  but  defire  you  to  make  a  de- 
finite anc^  Ipeedy  repair,  for  your  own  honour  and  fear 
of  prevention  ;  until  which   time  you   fhali   find  me 

"EDWARD  SACKVILLE. 

"  Tergcjo^  the  i  Gth  of  Aug.  1 6 1 3 ." 


A  Man/ieur^  Mi<y;fieur  Dackville. 
«*  I  have  received  your  letter  by  your  man,  and  ac- 

lOV/li 

I  come 


knov/ledge  vou  have  dealt  ncbly  with  me  *,    and  now 
le  vvitli  all  pciTible  hade  to  meet  ynu. 


EDWARD  BRUC£/» 
Guardian,  Vol.    II.  No.    J29. 

Oh  !  fatal  love  of  fa  jr.  e  I   Oh  glorious  hgai  ! 
Only.dtfratii'-oe  to  the  bra-ve  and  greaU 

Addison's  Campaign; 

The  gallant  behaviour  of  the  combatants   may  ferve 
to  raife  in  our  minds  a  yet   higher  deteftation    of  that: 
falfe  honour  which  robs  our  country  of  men  fo  fifted^i 
to  fupport  and  adorn  it. 


Zir  Edward  Sackville-s  Relation  oj  the  Fight  hetnveen  him 
and  the  Lord  Bruce.. 

WoriJySiry 

jf\S  I  am  not  ignorant,  fo  ought  I  to  be  fenfible  of  ^ 
the  talle  afperfions  fome  authorlefs  tongues  have  laid 
upon  rne,   in  the  report    of  thS    unfortunate    paiTage 
wiiich  lately  happened  between    the   lord    x^ri.rr  aad 
xnyfelf,  which  as  they  are  fpread  here,  fo  I  may  juft* 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  8i 

ly  fear  they  reign  alfo  where  you  are.     There  are  but 
I  two  ways  to  refolve  doubts  of  this  nature  ;    by  oath, 
I  or  by  KvorJ  :  The  firft  is  due  to  magiltrates,  commu- 
nicable to  his  friends  :  the  other  to  fuch  as  maliciouf- 
ly    flander    and    impudently    defend    their   afTcrtion. 
Your  love,  not  my  merit,   afiures    me,  you  hold  mc 
your  friend,  which  elleem  I  am  much  defirous  to  re- 
tain.    Do  me  therefore  the   right  to    underiland  thi 
I  truth  of  that,  and  in   my  behalf  inform   others,   who 
either  are  or  may  be  infecled   with  fmiilcr  rumour?, 
much  prejudicial  to  that  fair  opinion  I  dcfire  to  hoLJ 
amongil  all  worthy   perfons  :  and  on   the  faith    of  .i 
gentlemaa,  the  relation   1    iliall  give    is  neither  more 
nor  Icfs  than  the  bare  truth.     The  inclofed   contains 
the  fir  11  citation,  fent  me  from  Pans  by  a    S.o.'ch  gen- 
tleman, who  delivered  it  to  me  in  DerI>Yjhire,    at  my 
Father-in-law's  houfe.     After  it  follows  my  then  an- 
fwer,   returned  him  by  the  fame  bearer.     The   next 
is    my  accompiifliment   of  my  fird  promife,  being  a 
particular  alhgnation  of  place    and   weapon,  which  I 
fent  by  a  fervant  of  mine  by   poft    from  Rotterdamy  2ts 
foon  as  I  landtd  there,     'i  he  receipt  of  which,  joined 
with  an  acknowledgement  of  my   too  fair  carriage  to 
the  dcceafed  lord  is  teftified  by  tlie  lail,  which  periods 
the  bufmefs,  till  we  met  at  I ergofo  in  Zealand,  it  being 
the  ]ilacc  allotted  for  rendezvous,   where  he,   accom- 
panied with  one  Mr.  Cruivfoniy  an  EngUJh  gentleman 
for  his  fecond,  a  furgeon,  and  a  man,  arrived  with  all 
the  fpeed  he  could  :   And  there  having  rendered  him- 
felf,  I  addreiled  my  fecond.  Sir  John  Heidony  to  let  him 
underftand,  that  now  all  foUov^'ing  fliould  be  done  by 
confent,  as  concerning  the  terms  whereon  we  (hould 
fight,  as  alfo  the  place.     To  our  feconds^we  gave  pow- 
er for  their  appointments,  who  agreed    we  ihould  go 
to  Antuuerpi  from  thence  to  Bergen- op-Zocm^  where,  in 
the  midway,  but  a  village    divides  the  States  Territo- 
ries from  the  Archduke'' s.     And  there  was  the  deftined 
ftage,  to  the  end,   that  having  ended,    he  that  could, 
might  prcfently   exempt   himfelf  from  the  juftice  of 
the  country,  by  retiring  into  the  dominion   not  offen- 
ded.    It  was  further  concluded,  that  in  cafe  any  (houjld, 


92  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

fall  or  flip,  that  then  the  combat  {hould  ceafe  ;  and  he 
whofe  ill-fortune  had  fo  fubjedtd  him,  w  as  to  acknowl- 
edge his  life  to  have  been  in  the  other's  hands  :    Biif'j 
in  cafe  one  party's  fword  ftiould  break,   becaufe    that 
could  only  chance  by  hazard,  it    v/as  agreed  that  the 
other fhould take  no  a'dv?intagej  but  either  then  be  ma'dc 
friends,  or  die  upon  even  terms  go  to  it  again.     Thus 
thefe  conclufions  being   each  of  them    related  to  his 
party,  was  by  us  both  approved  and  alTented  to.     ACt 
cordingly  we  embarked  for  Jnfzverp.     And  by  re^-.ioii 
•  my  lord,  as  I  conceive,  becaufe  he   could   not  hand* 
fomely,  without  danger  of  difcovery,  had   not   paived 
the  fvvord    I    fent  him  to  P^ris ;  bringing  one  of  the 
.fame  length,  but  twice  as  broad,  my  fceond    excepted' 
againll  it,  ancladvifcd  me  to  msitch  my  own,  and  fend' 
him  the  choice,  which  I  obeyed  j  it  being,  you  know^j 
the  challenger's  privilege   to  ele£l    his  weapon.     At! 
the  delivery  ofthefword,    v/hi:h  was  performed   by 
;k>ir  Jo/m  Heidon^  it  pleafed  the  lord   Bruce  to  choofe  my 
•own  •,  and  then,  pail  expeCtatior!,  he  told  him,  that  he 
found  himfelf  fo   far  behind-hand,   as  a  little  of  my. 
blood  would  not  fervehis  turn,  and  therefore  he  was 
now  refolvedto  have  me  alone,  becaufe  he  knev/  (for 
I  will  ufe  his  own   words)    That  Jo  ivorthy  a  gentlem,-n, 
and  my  friend,   could  not   endure  to  Jland  bj^    ay:  d  fee  him  da. 
that  'which  he  mujl,  tofatiify  himfelf  (^nd  lis  honour,      Htre- 
■Vpon  Sir  Jol.m  ileido-i  replied,  that  fuch  intentions  were 
bloody  and  butcherly,  far  unntting  fo  noble  a  perfon- 
age,  who  fhould  dehre  to  bleed  for  reputation,  not  for 
life  j  v^ithal  adding,  he  thought  himfelf  injured,    be- 
ing come  thus  far,  nov/  to  be  prohibited  from  execu- 
ting thofe  honourable  offices  he  came  for.     The  lord, 
for   anfwcr,  only    reiterated   his   former  refolation  j 
whereupon  Sir   John   leaving  him  the  fword  he  had 
eleded,  delivered   me  the  other,  with  his  determina- 
tions :  The  which,  not  for  matter  but   manner,   fo 
moved  me,  as  though  to  my  remembrance,  I  Jiad   not 
©f  a  long  Vi^hile   eaten  more  liberally  than  at   dinner, 
and  therefore  unfit  for  fuch  an  aclion  (feeing  the  fur^ 
geon  hold  a  wound  upon  a  full  flomach  much   more 
diingeroiis  than  otherwife.)  I  requefted  mv  furgcon  to. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  S3 

certify  him,  "I  would  prefentiy  decide  tlie  difference, 
rind  there-fore  he  fliould  prefentiy  meet  me  on  horfeback, 
only  waited  on  by  our  lurgeons,  they  being   unarmed. 
Togetlier  we  rode  but   one  before    the    other,   fome 
tweh'e  fcore  about  two  Englj./h  miles  ;  and  tlien,    paf- 
(loi^  having  fo  weak  an  enemy  to  ail^iil,  as   my  direc- 
tion, eafily  became  N'lclor,  and  ufjng  his  power,  made 
me  obedient  t,o  his    commands.     I   being   verily   mad 
with  angtr,  the  lord  Bruce  Ihould  fliird   after    my  life 
with  a  kijid  of  aflurcdnefs,  feeing  I  had  come   fo   far, 
and  needicf^ly,  to  give  him  leave  to  regain  Ins  loft   re- 
putation, I  bade  him  alight,   which  with   all   willing- 
nefs  he  quickly  granted  5   and  there,  in  a  meadow,  an- 
ch  deep    in   Witer   at  the  leafl,  bidding  farewell  to 
cur  doublets,  in  our  fhirts  began  to  charge  each  other  ; 
having  afore  commanded  our   furgeons    to  withdraw 
thcmfelves  a  pretty  diitance  from  us,  conjuring  them 
b  fides,  as    th«y  expected   our  favours  or  their  own 
fafeties,  not  to  Itir,  but  fulFer  us  to  execute    our  plea- 
fures.      We  being  full  refolved  (God   forgive  us)    to 
difpntch  each  other  by  what  me^ns  we  could,  I   made 
a  thurft  at  my  en^my,  but  was  (hort ;  and  in  drawing 
back   my  arm,    I    received   a  gieat   wound   thereon, 
which  I  interpreted  as  a    reward  for  my  (liort  ihoot- 
ing  ;  but  in  revenge  I  preft  in  to  him,  though    I  then 
miiTed  him  aI,fo,  and  then  receiving   a  wound  in  my 
right  p;ip,  which  palTed  level  through   my  body,  and 
slmoft  to  my  back*,  and  there  we  wreftled  for  the  two 
greatell  and  dearefl  prizes  we  could  ever  expert  trial 
for,  honour  and  life.     In  v/hich  ftruggiing,  my   hand, 
having  but  an  ordinary  glove  upon  it,  loft  one  of  her 
fervant=^,,  though  tiie  meaneft,  which  hung  by   a  ficin, 
and  tollght  yet  remaincth  as  before  ;  and  I  am  put  in 
hope  one  day  ro  recover  the  uf^  of  it  again.     But   at 
laft.,  breatblefs,  vet  keeping  our  holds,  there  paiTed  on 
l3oth  fides  propoficions  of  quieting  each  other*s  fwords  ; 
bi-twhen  amity  was   dead,  confidence  could  not  live, 
.^nd  who  ftiould  quit  firft  was   the    queftion  •,    which 
on  neither  part,  either  woukl  perform  ;     and    reftriv- 
ing  Ltgainatrrih  with  a  kick  and  a  wrench  together,  I 
freed  my  long  captivated  weapon;,  which  incontinent- 


84  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  ^;'  ? 

ly  levelling  at  his   threat,  bcirxg  maftcr  ftill  of  his,  I 
demanded  if  he  would  aflc  his  life  or  yield  his  fword  ; . 
both    which,    though  in    that    im.mincnt   danger,  he 
bravely  denied  to  do.     Myfelf  being    wounded,   and  ^ 
feehng  the  lofs  of  blood,  having  three  conduits  run-  !, 
ning  on  me,  began  to  make  me  faint ;  and  he  coura-  ^ 
geoufly  persuing  not  to  accord  to  either   of  my  pro- 
pofitions  ',  through  remembrance   of  his  former  bloo- 
dy defire,  and  feeling  of  my   eftatc,   I    fhruck   at  his 
hiart,  but  with  his  avoiding,  miffed  my  aim,  yet  paff.d 
through  the  body,  and  drawing  out  m.y  fword,   repaft 
it  again,  through  another  place  ;  when  he  cried   O/i  / 
J  amjlain  !    feconding  his  fpeech  with  all  the  force  he 
had  to  cad  me.     But  being  too  weak,  after   I  had  de- 
fended his  affault,  I  eafity  became  mafber  of  him,  lay- 
ing him  upon  his  back  -,  when  being  upon  him,  1  re-. 
demanded    if  he  would  requefu  his  life,  but  it  feemed  , 
he  prized  it  not  at  fo  dear  a  rate  to  be  beholden  for  it ; 
bravely  replying,  he  yccrwf^?'// ;    which    anfwer  of  his 
was  lb  noble  and  worthy,  as  I  protell  I  could  not  find 
in  m.y  heart  to    offer    i  im    any  more  violence,  only 
keeping  him  down,  till  at  length  his  furgeon,  afar  off, 
cried  out,  he  txcuU  immediately    die,  if  his  njuounds  icere  net 
flopped.     Whereupon  I  afked  him  if  he  defired  his  fur- 
geon (hould  corn*,  which  he  accepted  of  ;  and  fo  be- 
ing drawn  away,  I  never  offered  to  take  his  fword,  ac- 
counting it  inhuman  to  rob  a  dead  man,  for  fo  I   held 
him  to  be.     Thus  this  ended  !  I  retired  to   my    fur- 
geon, in  whofe  arms,  after  I  had  remained  a  while  for 
want  of  blood,  I  loll  my  fight,  and  withal,   as  I   then 
thought,  my  life  alfo.     But  ftrong  water  and  his  dili- 
gence quickly  recovered  me,  when* I  efcaped    a  great 
danger ^  For  my  lord's   furgeon  when  nobody  dreamt 
cf  it,  came  full  at  me  with  his  lord's  fword,    and   had 
not  mine  with  my  fword   interpoffd   himfelf,    I  had 
been  (lain   by    thofe   bafe  hands  •,  although  my    lord 
Bruce^  weltering  in  his  blood,  and  part  all  expe6tations 
of  life,  conformably  to  all  his  former  carri:^ge,  v/hich 
was  undoubtedly   noble,    cried    out,    Rafcal  !  hold  thf 
hand.     So  may  I  prosper  as  I  have  dealt  fmcercly  Avith 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY,  t^ 

you  in  this  relation,  which  I  pray   you,  with    the   in- 
clofcil  letter,  deliver  to  my  lord  ckamberlain.   And  fo, 
^c.your*s,  EDWARD  SACKVI'LLE." 
LotivanSf  8  til  of  S  ep  t .   1613. 

GUARDIAN,  Vol.  II.  No.    133. 


A 


ANTIOCHUS. 


^ NTIOCHUS,  a  Prince  of  gi-cat  hopes,   fell  paf-  .| 

fionately  in  love  with  the  vcung  Queen  Stratonicey  who  '\ 
was  his  mother-in-law,  and  who  had  borne  a  fon  to  the 
old  king   SiUucusy  his  father.     The  Prince  -finding  it 
impofhble  to  extinguilli  his  palTion,  ftU  fick,  and  refu- 

fed  all  manner  of  nourifhment,   being   determined   to  \ 

put  an  end  to  that  life  which  was  become  infupporta-  j 

ble.  ; 

ErafijhattiSy  the  phyfician,  foon  found  that  love  was  | 

his  diitcmper  ;  and  obferving   the   alteration    in    his  1 

pulfc  and  countenance,  whenever  Stratonke  made  him  j 

a  vifit,  was  foon  fatished   that   he   was  dying  for   his  ■►^ 
mother-in-bw.     lOiowing  the  old  King's    tendernefs 
for  his  Ton,  when  he   one   morning    inquired   of  his 
health,  he   told  him,  that  the  Prince's  diftem.per  was 

love  ;  but  that  it   was   incurable,   becaufe  it  v/as  im-  j 

poiTible  for  liim  to  poiTefs  the  perfon  v/hom  he  loved.  ' 

The  Kinp,  furprifcd  at  this    account,  dcdred  to  knov/  -.. 

how  his  f on's  paffion  could  be  incurable ;  why,  Sir,  re-  i 

plied  Erajtjfatuiy  becaufe  he  is  in  love  with  the  perfoii  ; 
I  am  married  to. 

The  old  King  immediately  tonjured  him  by    all  his  j 
■paft  favours,  to  fave  the  hfe  of  his  fon  and   fucceflor. 

Sir,  faid  fr/vyJ^rarwjjWould  your  majefty  but  fancy  your-  ^ 
felf  in  my  place,  you  would  fee  the    unreafonabicnefs 
of  what  you  defne..     Heaven  is  my  witncfs,    {avX  Se* 

leucusy  I  would  refign  even  my    Stratonice  to  fave    my  \ 

Amiochu.     At  this  the   tears  ran    down   his    cheeks,  1 

which  when  the    Phyfician   fav/,   taking  him   by  the  , 

hand.    Sir,   faid   he,  'if  thefe  are  your  real  fentiments>  ( 

the  Ppnce's  hfe  is   out   of  danger  :  It  is  Stratonice  for  \ 

whoin  he  dies,     ^^r/^-ara;  immediately   gave   orders  ior  ^ 


S6  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY 

folemnizing  the   marrbgc  ;  and  the  young  queen^t  i 
fliew  her  obedience,  verygeneroufly  exchanged  the  fa- 
ther for  the  fon. 

Tatler,  VoL  m.No.  183, 


;  ANTS. 

In  my  lafl  Saturday's  paper,  I  fuppofed  a  mole  hill 
inhabited  by  pifmires  or  ants,  to  be  a  lively  image  of 
•the  earth  peopled  by  human  creatures.  This  fuppofi*- 
stion  will  not  appear  too  forced  or  ftrained  to  thofe 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  natural  hiilory  of  thefe 
little  infers  ;  in  order  to  which  I  fhall  prefent  my 
reader  with  the  extraft  of  a  letter  upon  this  c-urious 
fubjeftj  as  It  was  pub! i (bed  by  the  members  of  the 
French  academy,  and  fmce  tranflated  into  £hglijh.  I 
muft  confefs  I  was  never  better  entertained  than  with 
this  narrative,  which  is  of  undoubted  credit  and  au- 
thority. 

*Mn  a  room  next  to  mine,  which  had  been  enxpty 
for  a  long  time,  there  was  upon  a  window  a  box  full 
of  earth,  two  feet  deep,  and  fit  to  keep  flowers  in. 
That  kind  oPparterre  had  been  long  uncultivated,  and 
therefore  it  was  covered  with  old  plaifter  and  a  great 
deal  of  rubbifli,  that  fell  from  the  top  of  the  houfe, 
rmd  from  the  walls,  which,  together  with  the  earth 
formerlv  imbibed  with  water,  m^ade  a  kind  of  dry  and 
barren  foil.  That  place  lying  to  the  K^outh^  and  cut  of 
the  reach  of  the  wind  and  rain,  befides  the  neighbour- 
hood of  a,granary,  was  a  moft  delightful  fpot  oi  ground 
for  ants ;  therefore  they  had  made  three  nefts  there, 
without  doiibt  for  the  fame  reafon  that  men  built  cit- 
ies in  fruitful  and  convenient  places,  near  fprings  and 
rivers. 

Having  a  mind  to  cultivate  feme,  flowers,  I. took  a 
view  of  that  place,  and  rem.oved  a  tulip  out  of  the 
garden  into  that  box  :  But  calling  my  eyes  upon  the 
ants,  continually  taken  up  with  a  thoufand  cares^very 
inconfiderablc  with  refped  to  us,  but  of  the  great- 
$(t  importance  for  them,  they  appeared  to  me  iftorc 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  87 

worthy  of  my  curlofity  than  all  the  flowers  in  the 
world.  I  quickly  removed  the  tulip,  to  be  the  admir- 
er and  reilorer  or  that  little  commonwealtli.  This 
was  the  only  thing  they  wanted  ;  for  their  policy,  and 
the  order  obft^rved  among  them,  are  more  perfe<!i^ 
than  thofe  of  the  wifefl  republics  ;  and  therefore  they 
have  nothing  to  fear,  unleis  a  new  legillator  fhould  at- 
tempt to  change  the  form  of  their  government. 

I  made  it  my  bahnefs  to  procure  them  all  forts  of 
conveniences  ;  I  took  out  of  the  box  everything  that 
might  be  troubltfome  to  them,  and  frequently  vifitcd 
my  ants,  and  (ludied  all  their  actions.  i3:;ing  uf*fd  to 
go  to  bed  very  late,  I  went  to  fee  them  work  in  a 
nioon-fliiny  night;  and  I  frequently  got  up  in  the 
night  to  take  a  view  of  their  labours.  1  always  found 
fomc  going  up  and  down,  and  very  bufy.  One  would 
think  that  they  never  lleep  Every  body  knows 
that  ants  come  out  of  their  holes  in  the  day-time,  and 
expofe  to  the  fun  the  corn  which  they  keep  under 
ground  in  the  niglit..  Wlvat  furprifed  me  r.t  firil  was, 
my  ants  never  brought  out  their  corn  but  in  the  nighty 
when  the  moon  did  fliine,  and  kept  it  under  ground 
in  the  day-time,  which  was  contrary  to  what  1  had 
feen,  and  faw  flill  praclifed  by  thofe  infers  ia  other 
places.  I  quickly  found  out  the  reafon  of  it.  There 
M'as  a  pigeon-hc'ufe  not  far  from  thence  ;  pigeons 
and  birds  would  hare  eaten  their  corn,  if  tliey  had 
brought  it  out  in  the  day-time.  It  is  highly  probable 
they  knew  it;by  experience  ;  and  I  frequently  found 
pigeons  and  birds  in  that  place,  v»hen  I  we^U  to  Ir  in  a 
morning  :  I  quickly  delivered  them  from  tliefe  rob- 
bers ;  1  frightened  the  birds  away  with  fome  pieces  ci' 
paper  tied  to  the  end  of  a  ftring  over  the  window  :  As 
lor  the  pigeons,  I  drove  them  away  feveral  times  ',  and 
when  they  perceived  that  the  place  was  more  frequen- 
ted than  before,  they  never  came  to  it  again.  What 
is  mofl:  admiiable,  and  what  I  could  hardly  believe, 
if  I  did  not  know  it  by  experience,  is,  that  thofe  ants 
knew  fome  days  after,  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear, 
and  began  to  lay  out  their  corn  in  the  fun.  However, 
perceived  they  were  not  fully  convinced  of  being  out- 


88  ADDISONIAN  M.SGELLANY. 

of  danger,  for  they  clurfl  not  bring  out  tlieir  provIHons 
all  at  once,  but  by  degrees,  firft  in  a  fmall  quantrty, 
2ind  without  any  great  order,  that  ihty  might  quickly 
carry  them  away  in  cafe  of  any  misfortune,  watching 
i.nd  looking  every  v/ay  :  At  lail,  being  perfuaded  that 
they  had  nothing  to  fear,  they  brought  out  all  their 
corn,  almod  every  day,  and  in  good  order,  and  carried 
it  in  at  niglit. 

There  is  a  (Iraight  hole  in  every  ant's  neft,  about 
half  an  inch  deep,  c-.tk^  ilien  it  goes  do^n  {loping  into 
a  place  where  they  have  magazines,  which  1  take  to 
be  a  different  place  from  that  where  they  reft  and  eat ; 
for  it  is  highly  improbable  that  an  ant,  which  is  a  very 
cleanly  infe6l,  and  throws  cut  of  her  ncft  all  the  fmall 
remains  of  the  corn  on  which  (lie  feeds,  asl  have  cb- 
frrved  a  thoufand  times,  would  fill  up  her  magazine, 
and  mix  her  corn  with  dirt  and  ordure. 

The  Cvorn  that  is  hid  up  by  ants  would  (hoot  under 
ground,  if  thofe  infetfts  did  not  take  care  to  prevent  it. 
They  bite  off  all  the  bsds  before  they  lay  it  up  ;  and 
tlierefore  the  corn  which  has  lain  in  their  nells,  will 
produce  nothing.  Any  one  may  eafily  make  this 
exnerimiCnt,  and  even  plainly  fee  there  is  no  bud  in 
their  corn  :  But  though  the  bud  be  bitten  off,  there 
remains  another  inconvenience  ;  lliat  corn  muff  needs 
fweli  and  rot  under  ground,  and  therefore  it  could  be 
of  no  ufe  to  the  nourifhment  of  ants.  Thefe  inie6ls 
preveut  that  incoH/enience  by  their  labour  and  induf- 
try,  and  contrive  the  matter  fo,  that  corn  will  keep  as 
dry  in  their  nefts  as  in  our  gr  .naries. 

'ihey  gather  many  fmall  particles  of  dry  er.rth, 
"which  they  bring  every  day  cut  of  their  holes,  and 
lace  them  round  to  heat  them  in  tlie  fun  :  Every  ant 
rings  a  fmiall  particle  of  tliat  earth  in  her  pincers,  lays 
it  by  the  hole,  and  then  gees  and  fetches  another : 
Thus,  in  lefs  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  one  may  fee  a 
vafi:  number  of  fuch  f«:iall  particles  of  dry  earth,  heap- 
ed up  round  the  hole  :  They  lay  their  corn  under 
ground  upon  that  earth,  and  cover  it  with^the  fame. 
They  pertorm  this  work  almoft  every  day,  during  the 
heat  of  the  fun  ;  and  though  the  fun  went  from"  the 


I 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  8c? 

vVindow  about  three  or  four  o'clock  in  t'le  afternoon, 
they  did  not  remove  their  corn  and  particles  of  earth,- 
becaufe  the  ground  was  very  hot,  till  the  heat  was 
over. 

If  any  one  fiiould  think  that  thofe  animals  Oioulcl 
ufe  fand,  or  fmall  particles  of  brick  or  ftone,  rather 
than  to  take  fo  much  pains  about  dry  earth,  I  anfwer,- 
that  upon  fuch  anoccifion,  nothing  can  be  move  pro- 
per than  earth  heated  in  the  fun.  Corn  does  not 
keep  upon  fand  j  befides  a  grain  of  corn  that  is  cut, 
being  deprived  of  its  bud,  would  be  filled  with  fmall 
fandy  particles  that  could  not  eafily  come  out.  To 
which  I  add,  that  fand  confifts  of  fuch  fmall  particle?, 
that  an  ant  could  not  take  them  up  one  after  another  ;  - 
and  therefore  thefe  infects  are  to  be  feldom  found  near 
rivers  or  in  any  very  fandv  ground. 

As  for  the  imall  particles  of  brick  and  ftone,  the 
lead  moiilnefs  would  join  them  together,  and  turn 
them  into  a  kind  of  mallick,  which  thofe  infects  could 
not  divide  :  Thofe  particles  flicking  tog(  ther,  could 
not  come  out  of  the  ant's  neit,  and  would  fpoil  its 
fymmetry. 

When  ants  have  brought  out  thofe  particles  of  earth, 
they  bring  out  their  corn  after  the  fame  manner,  and 
place  it  round  ihe  earth  :  Thus  one  may  fee  two 
heaps  furrounding  their  hole,  one  of  dry  earth,  and 
the  other  of  corn  ;  and  then  they  fetch  out  the  re- 
mainder of  dry  earth,  on  which,  doubtlefs,  their  corn 
was  laid  up. 

Thofe  infe6bs  never  go  about  this  work  but  when 
the  weather  is  clear,  and  the  fun  very  hot.  I  obfer- 
ved,  that  thofe  little  animals  having  one  day  brought 
up  their  corn  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  remo- 
ved it  againft  their  ufual  cuftom,  before  one  in  the  af- 
ternoon :  The  ftm  being  very  hot,  and- the  (ky  very 
clear,  I  could  perceive  no  reafon  for  it  *,  feut  half  an 
hour  after,  the  Iky  began  to  overcaft,  and  there  fell  a 
fmall  rain,  which  the  ants  forelaw  ;  whereas  the  Mi^ 
Ian  almanack  had  foretold  there  would  be  no  rain  that 
day. 

I  have  faid  before,  that  thofe  ants  which  I  did  fo 
li  2. 


9® 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


particularly  confuler,  fetched  their  corn  out  of  a  gar- 
ret. I  went  very  frequently  into  that  garret  :  There 
was  fonneoM  xrorn  in  it  ;  anci  becaufe  every  grain  was 
not  alike,  I  obfervcd  that  they  chofe  the  belt. 

I  knew,  by  feveral  experiments,  that  thofe  little  an- 
imals take  great  cnre  to  provide  themfelves  with  wheat 
vhen  tliey  can  find  it,  and  always  pick  out  the  beft  j 
but  they  can  make  fiiift  without  it.  When  they  can 
get  no  wheat,  they  take  rye,  oats,  millet,  and  even 
crumbs  of  bread,  but  fcldom  any  barley,  unlefs  it  be 
in  a  time  of  a  great  fcarcity,  and  when  nothing  elfe 
•tan  be  had. 

Being  willing  to  be  informed  more  particularly  of 
their  forecaft  and  induftry,  I  put  a  fmall  heap  of  wheat 
in  a  corner  cf  the  room  where  they  kept  •,  and  to  pre- 
vent their  fetching  corn  out  of  the  garret,  I  fliut  up 
the  windc  ^  and  iicpped  all  the  holes.  -  Though  ants 
are  very  knowing,  I  do  not  take  them  to  be  conjurers, 
and  therefore  they  could  not  guefs  that  I  had  put 
fome  corn  in  that  room.  I  perceived  for  feveral  days, 
that  they  were  much  perplexed,  and  went  a  great  way 
to  fetch  their  proviiions.  '  I  was  not  willing  fvK  fome 
time  to  make  them  more  eafy,  for  I  had  a  mind  to 
know  whether  they  v/ould  at  lalt  find  out  the  treafure, 
and  fee  it  ai  n  ^reat  uiilance,  and  whether  fmellinj]:  en- 
abled them  to  Know  what  is  good  for  their  n:;urifh- 
3Dnent.  Thus  they  v/ere  fome  time  in  gre?.t  trouble, 
5ind  took  a  great  deal  of  pains  :  They  went  up  and 
idown  a  great  way,  looking  out  for  fome  grains  of 
corn;  they  were  lometimes  difappointed,  and.fome- 
times  they  did  net  like  their  corn,  after  many  long  and 
paujful  excurfions.  "Vyiiat  appeared  to  me  wond'crful' 
was,  that  none  of  them  came  home  without  bringing 
fcjmething ;  one  brought  a  grain  of  wheat,  another  of 
rye  and  oats,  or  a  particle  of  dry  earth,  if  fhe  Could 
get  nothing  elfe. 

The  window,  upon  which  thefe  ants  had  made  their 
fettlement,  looked  into  a  garden,  and  was  two  (lories 
high.  Some  v/ent  to  the  further  end  of  the  garden, 
ethers  to  the  filth  ftory,  in  queft  of  fome  corn  *,  it  was 
;»  very  hard  journey  for  them,  efpecially  when  they 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ^i. 

came  home  loaded  with  a  pretty  hrge  grain  of  corn, 
which  needs  muil  be  a  heavy  burthen  fcr  an  ant,  and 
as  much  as  Ihe  can  bear.     The  bringing  of  that  grain 
from  the  middle  of  the  gardoi  to  the  netl,  tock  up  four 
hours  ;  whereby  one   may  judge  of  the  ftrength  and 
prodigious  labour  of  thofe  little  animals*      It  appears  ^ 
from  thence,  that  an  ant  works  as  hard  as  a  man,  who 
ftiould  carry  a  very  heavy  load  upon  hisOioulders  almoft 
every  day,  for  the  fnacc  of   four  leagues..    It  is  true, , 
tliofe  infects  do  not  take  fo   much   pains  upon  a  flat 
ground  ;  but  then  how  great  is  the  hardfliip  of  a  pocr. 
ant,  when  (he  carries  a  grain  of  corn  to  the  fecond  (lo- 
ry, climbing   up  a>  wall  with  her   head    downwards  ? 
None  can  have    a  true  notion  of  it,  unlefs  they  fee^ 
thofe  little  animals   at  work  in  fuch  a  fituation.     The. 
frequent  flops  they  make  in  the  moil  convenient  pla- 
ces, are   a  plain  indication  of  their  wearincfs.     Some., 
of  them  were  ftrangtly   perplexed,  and  could  not  get; 
to  their  journey's  end  :  In  fuch  a  cafe,  the  ftrongeil 
^nts,  or   thofe  that  are   not  fo  weary,,  having  carried 
tneir  corn  to   thgir  nefts,    came  down  again  to  help 
them.     Some  are  fo  unfortunate  as  to  fall  down  with 
their  load,   when  they  are  almoft  come  home  :  When- 
this  happens,  they  feldom  lofe  their  corn,  but  carry  it, 
up  again. 

I  faw  one  of   the  fmalleft  carrying  a  large  grain  of./ 
wheat  with  incredible  pains  :  When  (he  came  to   the. 
box  where  the  neft  was,  fhe  made  fo  much  hade,,  that , 
fhe  fell, down. with  her  load,    after  a  very  laborious, 
march  :  fuch  an  unlucky  accident  would  have  vc^xed  a. 
philofopher.     1  went  down    and  found  her  with  the. 
lame  corn  in  her  paws  -,  fhe  was   ready  to  climb  up ,, 
again.     The  fame   misfortune  happened  to  her  three, 
times  ;  fometimes  (lie  fell  in  the  middle  of  her  way,  ^ 
and  fometimes  higher  5  but  (lie  never  let  go  her  hold,  , 
and  was    not  difcouraged.      At  length   her  ftrength 
failed  her,  (lie  ftopt,  and   another  ant   helped  her  to 
carry  her  load,  which  was  one  of  the  largelb  and  fineft 
grains  of  wheat  that  an    ant  can  carry.     It  happens 
fometimes,  that  a  corn  flips  out  of  their  paws  when 
they  are  climbing  up  :    They  take  hold  of  it  again, 


92  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.' 

when  they  can  find  it  ;  otherwife  they  look  for  an- 
other,  or  take  fomething  elfe,  being  aihamed  to  return  |'^ 
to  their  neil  without  bringing  iomething  :  This  I  have 
experimented  by  takingawaythe  grain  which  they  look-  • 
ed  for.  All  thefe  experiments  may  eafily  be  made  by' 
any  one  Vv'ho  has  patience  enough  :  They  do  not  re-- 
quire  fo  great  patience  as  that  of  ants  •,  bat  fewpeo-  • 
pie  are  capable  of  it. 

Guardian,  Vol.  II.  No.  1 56^'5 

Go  to  the  Anty  thou  Sluggard  ;.  corfider  her  nxx^s^  and  he  nrnife^. 

It  has  been  obferved  by  writers  of  morality,  that  In  ^ 
order  to  quicken  human  induftry.    Providence  has  fo  > 
contrived  it,  that  our  daily  food  is  not  to  be  procured 
without  much  pa^ne  and  Labour,     The  chafe  of  birds  ■: 
and  beads,  the  feveral  arts  of  iiihing,  with  all  the  dif--v 
ferent  kinds  of  agriculture,  are  neceliary  fcenes  of  bu- 
fniefs.,  and  give  employment  to  the  greatefl  part  o£ ' 
mankind.     If  we  look  into  the  brute  creation,  we  find 
all  its   individuals  engaged  in  a  painfwl  and  laborious  ^ 
way  of  life,  to  procure  a  necefiary  fubfiftence  for  thern^  -  ^ 
felves,  or  thofe  that  2;row  up  under  them  :  The  pre-  •  • 
fervation  of  their  being  .  is  the  whole  bufinefs  of  it  t ;   i 
An  idle  man  is  therefore  a   monfter  in  the  creation  5  .   I 
all  nature   is  bufy   about  hirn  j  every  animal  he  fees,:   i 
reproaches  him.     Let  fuch  a  man  who  lies  as  a  burthen  t  { 
or  dead  weight  on  the  fp&cies,  and  contributes  nothing  r. 
either  to  the  riches  of  the   commouwealth,  or  to  the. 
maintainance  of  himfelf  and  family,  confide*-  that  in- - 
ffinct  v/ith  which  Providence   has  endowed  the  ant,; 
and  by  which  is  exhibited  an  example  of  induftry  tO;- 
rational  crearares.     This  is  fet  forth  under  many  fur^- 
prifing  inftances  in  the  paper  of  yeiterday,  and  in  the"' 
conclufion  of  that  narrative,  which  is  as  follows  :  . 

"  Thus  my  ants  were   forced  to  make  Ihift  for  a  - 
livelihood,  when  I  had  ill ut  up  the  garret  out  of  which, 
they  ufed  to  fetch  their  provifions.  .   At  lad,  being.fen- 
fiblc    that  it  would  be  a   long  time  before  they  could- 
difcover  the  fmall  heap  of  corn  which  I  had  laid  up  for  . 
them^  I  refolded  to  fiiQw-it  to  them, . 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ^.3 

"  In  order  to  know  how  far  their  Induflry  could 
reach,  I  contrived  an  expedient,  which  had  good  fuc- 
cefs.  The  thing  will  appear  incredible  to  thoie  who 
never  confidered  that  all  animals  of  the  fame  kind, 
which  form  a  Ibciety,  nre  more  knowing  than  otliers.. 
1  took  one  of  the  l.irgeft  ants  and  threvv  lier  upon  the 
fniall  heap  of  wheat  :  She  was  fo  glad  to  find  hevfelf 
at  liberty,  that  Oic  ran  away  to  her  nefl  without  carry- 
ing away  a  grain  ;  but  {he  obfcrved  it  :  ?0r  in  an 
liont  afior,  all  my  ants  had  notice  given  them  of  fuch 
a  provifjon,  and  I  faw  mcil  of  thcni  very  bufy  in  car- 
rying away  the  corn  I  had  laid  up  in  the  room.  I 
Je^ve  it  to  you  to  judge,  whether  it  may  not  be  faid, 
tliat  they  have  a  p.irticular  way  of  communicating 
their  knowlcdg^'i  to  one  another  ;  for  otiierwife,  how 
could  they  know,  one  or  two  hours  after,  that  tlure 
was  corn  in  the  place  ?"'  It  was  quickly  exhaulled, 
and  I  put  in  more,  but  ia  a  fmall  quantity,  to  know 
the  true  extent  of  their  appetite  or  prodigious  avarice; 
for  I  make  no  doubt  but  they  lay  up  provifions  againfl 
the  winter  :  We  read  it  in  holy  fcripture  ;  a  thcu- 
fand  experiments  teach  us  the  fame  *,  and  1  do  not  be- 
lieve that  an]'  experiment  has  been  made  that  (howa 
the  contrnry. 

I  have  faid  before, that  there  were  three  antsnefls  in 
the  box  OT P ar / err ey  which  foimed,if  I  may  fay  fo,thi-ce 
I  difTertnt  cities,  governed  by  the  fame  laws,  and  obferv- 
ing  the  fame  order,  and  the  fame  cuftoms.  However, 
there  was  this  dill>rence,that  the  inhabitants  of  one  of 
thefe  holes  f'^emed  to  be  more  knowing  and  induRrious 
than  their  neighbours  :  The  ants  of  tiiat  neit  were  dif- 
pofed  in  better  crdtr  •,  their  corn  was  fmer;  they  had  a 
greater  plenty  of  provKions  ;  their  nefl  was  lurniflied 
with  more  inhabitants,  and  they  were  bigger  and 
ftronger  ;  it  was  the  principal  end  capital  nelt  :  Nay, 
I  obferved  that  thofe  ants  were  diilinguifhed  from  tne 
'  reft,  and  had  fomc  preeminence  over  them. 

Tliough  the  box  full  of  earth  where  the  ants  had 
made  their  f  Jttlement,  was  generally  free  from  rain, 
et  it  rained  fometimes  upon  it,  when  a  certain  wind 
lew.     It  was  a  great  inconvenience  for  thofe  infedls .: 


I 


^4  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

Ants  are  afraid  of  water  ,  and  when  tliey  go  a  great 
way  in  queft  of  provifions,  and  are  furprifed  by  tht 
rain,  they  (lielter  themfelves  under  fome  tile,  or  iomc-^ 
thing  elfe,  and  do  not  come  cut  until  the  rain  is  over 
1  he  ants  of  the  principal  neft  found  out  a  . wonderful 
expedient  to  keep  out  the  rain  :  There  wns  a  fmal 
piece  of  flat  flate,  which  tliey  laid  over  the  hole  oi 
their  .nefl  in  the  day  time,  when  they  forefaw  it  would 
rain,  and  almolt  every  night.  Above  fJty  of  thefc 
little  animals,  efpeciaily  of  the  ftrongeft,  iiirroundeci 
that  piece  of  flate,  and  drew  it  equally  in  wonderfu 
Older  :  Tney  removed  it  in  the  morning  5  and  nothinc 
could  be  more  curious  than  to  fee  thoie  little  animal^ 
rabout  fuch  a  work.  They  had  made  the  ground  unJ 
even  about  their  neft,  in  fo  much  that  the  flate  di6 
not  lie  flat  upon  it,  but  left  a  free  pafliage  underneath 
The  ants  in  the  two  other  nefts  did  not  fo  well  fuo- 
ceed  in  keeping  out  the  rain  :  They  laid  over  the  hole 
feveral  pfeces  of  old  and  dry  plaifler,  one  upon  the 
other  ;  but  they  were  llili  troubled  with  the  rain,  and 
the  next  day  they  took  a  world  of  pains  10  repair  the 
damage.  Hence  it  is,  that  thofe  little  inf-icls  are  fo  fre 
c^uentlyto  be  found  under  tiles,  where  they  fettle  them-i 
felves  to  avoid  the  rain.  Their  neils  are  at  all  time's 
covered  with  thofe  tiles,  without  any  incumbrance  ; 
and  they  lay  out  their  corn  and  dry  earth  in  the  fun,' 
about  the  tiles,  as  one  may  ice  every  day.  I  took 
care  to  cover  the  two  ants  nefts  that  were  troubled 
with  the  rain  ;  as  for  the  capital  neft,  there  was  no 
need  of  exercifing  my  charity  towards  it.. 

M.  ^e  la  Loubere  fays,  in  his  relation  of  Siam,  that  in 
a  certain  part  of  that  kingdom,  v.'hich  lies  open  to 
great  inundations,  all  the  ants  make  their  fettiemtnts 
upon  the  trees  \  no  ants  nefts  are  to  be  feen  anyv.'here 
elfe.  I  need  not  infert  here  what  the  autlidr  f^ys 
about  thefe  infeds  ;   you  may  fee  his  relation. 

Here  follows  a  curious  experiment  which  I  made 
upon  the  fame  ground  where  I  had, three  ants  nefts  ; 
I  undertook  to  malce  a  fourth  and  went  about  it  in  the 
following  manner  :  In  a  corner  of  a  kind  of  terrace, 
at  a  confidcrable  diftance  from  the  box^  I  found  a  hale 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  95 

Varming  with  ants,  much  larger  than  thofe  I  had 
ih"«cady  lecn  ;  but  thejr  were  not  to  well  provided  with 
:orn,  nor  under  (o  good  a  government.  I  made  a 
lole  in  the  box  Hke  that  of  an  ant*s  neil:,  and  laid,  as 
t  were  the  foundation  of  anew  city  :  Afterwards  I 
TQt  as  many  ants  as  I  could  cut  of  the  neit  in  the  ter- 
race, and  put  them  into  a  bottle,  to  give  th:m  a  new 
habitation  in  my  box  ;  and  becaufe  I  was  afraid  they 
would  return  to  the  terrace,  I  dellroyed  thc*ir  old  neft, 
pouring  boiling  water  into  the  hole,  to  kill  thofe  ants 
that  remaiiied  in  it.  In  ttie  next  place,  I  filled  the 
new  hole  with  the  ants  that  were  in  the  bottle  ;  but 
none  of  them  would  ftav  in  it  :  I'hey  went  away  in 
lefs  than  two  hours  ;  which  made  me  believe  that 
it  was  impolhble  to  make  a  fourth  fettlemcnt  ia  my 
box. 

Two  or  three  days  after  going  accidentally  over  the 
terrace,  I  was  very  much  furprifed  to  fee  tiie  ant's  neft 
which  I  had  de{lioy<d,  very  artfully  repaiied.  I  re- 
folved  then  to  deihoy  it  entirely,  and  to  fettle  thofe 
ams  in  my  box.  To  fucceed  in  my  defign,  1  putfome 
brlmllone  and  gunpowder  into  their  hole,  and  fprung  a 
mine,  whereby  the  whole  iieft  was  overthrown  ;  and 
then  I  carried  as  many  ants  as  I  could  get,  into  the 
place  which  1  defigiied  for  them.  It  happened  to  be  a 
very  rainy  d:-'.y,  and  it  rained  all  night,  and  therefore 
I  they  remained  in  the  new  hols  all  that  time.  In  the 
I' morning,  whe^i  the  rain  was  over,  mod  of  them  went 
ti  away  to  repair  their  old  habitation  ;  but  finding  it  im- 
pra<S\icabie,  by  reafon  of  the  fincll  of  the  bri.nftone 
and  powder,  which  kills  them,  they  came  back  again, 
and  fettled  in  the  place  I  had  appointed  for  them. 
They  quickly  grew  acquainted  with  their  neighbours, 
and  ri^eeived  from  them  all  manner  of  alhftance  out  of 
their'  holes  :  As  for  the  inllde  of  their  nfeil,  none  but 
themfelves  were  concerned-  in  it,  according  to  the  invi- 
olable lavvr,  eilabliihed  among  thofe  an!;iQal$. 

An  ant  never  goes  into  any  other  ncft  but  her 
own  i  and  if  five  fnoald  venture  to  do  it,  (lie  would  be 
turned  out  and  fcvcrely  punifhed.  I  have  often  taken 
aa^t.cuttti  ttUC'iielt,  and  put  her  into  another  j  but 


€}6  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ' 

Ihe  quickly  came  out,  being  warmly  purfued  bv  two 
or  three  cthtrr  ants.     I  tried  the  lame  experiment  fev-  '| 
cral  times  with  the   T^me  ant  ;    but  at  hift  the  other 
ants  grew  impatient,  and  tore  her  to  pieces.     I  have 
often  frighted  fome  ants  with  my  fingers,  and  purfu- 
ed them  ;.s  rar  as  another  hole,  topping  all  the  palTages 
to  prevent  their  going  to  their  own  neit  :  It  u  as  very 
natural  for  thr,m  to  fly  into  the  next  hole.      Many  a 
man  would  not  be  fo  cautious,  and  would  throw  him- 
feif  out  of  the  windows,  or  into  a  well,    if    he   were 
purfued  by  aflailms  *,    but  the  aiats  I  am  fpeaking  of, 
avoided  going  into  any  hole  but  their  own,  and  rather 
tri:d  all  other  ways  of   making   their  efcape.       They 
never  fled  irito  another  neft  but  at  the  lad  extremity  ; 
andfc^ietimss  rather  chofe  to  be  taken,  as  I   have  of- 
ten experienced.     It  is  therefore  an  inviolable  cuftom 
among  thefe  infe^ls,  not  to  go  into  any  other  hole  but 
their  own.      They  do    not  exercife  hofpitality ;   but 
they  are  very  ready  to  help  one    another  out  of  their 
holes.     They  pur  dov/n  their  loads  at  the  entrance  of 
a  neighboring  neli  j  and    thofe  that   live  in  it  carry 
them  in.     They  keep  up  a  fort  of  trade  among  them-   . 
felves  •,  and  it  is  not   true,  that  thofe  infe-fls  are   not  j 
'for   lending  :    1  know  the  contrary  •,  they  lend    their    : 
corn,  they  make  exchanges,  they  are  always  ready  to   \ 
ferve  one  another  ;  and    1  can  aflure  you,  more  time  ^ 
and  patience  would  have    enabled   me    to  obferve  a  : 
thoufand  tilings  more  curious  and  wonderful  than  what  ] 
I  have  mentioned.      For  inflance,  how  they  lend  and  '" 
recover  tiieir  loans  •,  whether  it  be  in   the  fame  quan-  ^ 
tit'7,  or  with  ufury  ;  whether  they   pay  the  ftrangers  '^ 
that  work  for  them,  &:c.     I  do  not  think  it  impoffible    ' 
to  examine  all  thofe  things  ;  and  it  would  be  a  great  ' 
curiofity  to  know  by  what  maxims  they  govern  them-  ^^ 
felves  :  Perhaps  fuch  a  knowledge  might  be  of  fome   [ 
ufc  to  us.  > 

They  arc  never  attacked  by  any  enemies  in  ab  ody,  ; 
as  it  is  reported  of  bees':  Their  only  fear  proceeds  i 
from  bir(is,  which  fometimes  eat  their  corn^  when  they  it; 
lav  it  out  ia  the  fun  ;  but  they  keep  it  under  ground  I 
waen  they  are  afraid  of  tliicves.     It  is  faid  that  foinc  i 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  97 

.^  birds  eat  them  ;  but  I  never  faw  any  inftance  of  It. 
They  are  alfo  infefted  by  fmall  worms,  but  they  turn 
thera  out  and  kill  them.  I  obferved  that  they  punifli- 
;€d  thole  ants  which  probably  had  been  wanting  to 
their  duty  ;  nay,  fometimes  they  killed  them,  which 
they  did  in  the  following  manner  :  Three  or  four  ants 
fell  upon  one,  and  pulled  her  feveral  ways,  till  (he  was 
torn  to  pieces.  Generally  fpeaking,  they  live  very 
quietly  ;  from  whence  I  infer  they  nave  a  very  fevere'^ 
difcipline  among  them,  to  keep  fo  good  an  order  ;  or 
that  they  are  great  lovers  of  peace,  if  they  have  no  oc- 
cafion  for  any  difcipline. 

AVa.i  there  ever  a  greater  union  in  ar-y  common- 
wealth ?  Every  thing  is  common  among  them  j  v,  hicli 
h  not  to  be  f:cn  any  where  elfe.  Bees,  of  which  wc 
are  toid  fuch  wcndertul  things,  have  each  of  them  a 
hole  in  their  hives  ;  their  honey  is  tlieir  own  ;  every 
bee  minds  her  own  concerns.  The  fame  may  be  faiA 
of  a'l  other  animals.  They  frequently  fight  to  de- 
prive one  another  of  their  portion.  It  is  not  fo  with 
ants  :  They  have  nothing  of  their  own  :  a  grain  o£ 
corn  which  an  ant  carries  nome,  is  depofitcd  in  a  com- 
mon flock  *,  it  is  not  for  her  own  ufe,  but  for  the  good 
of  the  whole  community  :  There  is  no  dillindlion  be- 
tween a  private  and  a  common  intercil  ;  an  ant  nevet 
works  for  herfelf,  but  for  the  fociety. 

Whatever  misfortune  happens  to  them,  their  cajc 
and  induiiry  find  out  a  remedy  for  it  ;  nothing  dif- 
courages  them.  If  you  deftroy  their  neils,  they  will 
be  rep.lired  in  two  days  :  Any  body  may  fee  how  dif- 
ficult it  is  to  drive  them  out  ol"  their  habitations,  with-  , 
out  deftr.oying  the  inhabitants  ;  for,  as  long  as  there 
are  any  left  they  will  maintain  their  ground.  1  had 
nlmoft  forgot  to  tell  you.  Sir,  that  Mercury  has  hither- 
to proved  mortal  poifon  for  them,  and  that  it  is  the 
mo'^  -:fFe£lual  way  of  deftroying  thefe  in't£ls.  lean 
do  fomething  for  them  in  this  cafe  :  Perhaps  you  may 
hear  in  a  little  time,  that  I  have  reconciled  vhem  to 
Mercury" 

Guardian,  Vol-  II.  No.  157; 


9S  ADDISONIAN  M  SC  ILL  ANY 


I 


ANXIETIES. 


JlT  miifl:  be  owned  that  fear  is  a  very  powerful  paf- 
fiouy  fincc  it  is  efleemed  one  of  the  grcateil  virtuts  to 
fubdue  it  :  It  being  iinplanted  in  us  for  our  prefcrva- 
tion,  it  is  no  wonder  it  llicks  clofe  to  us  as  long  as  we 
have  any  thing  we  are  villitig  to  prefe've  ;  but  as  Hfe 
and  all  its  enjoyments  would  be  fcarce  woi  -h  the  keep- 
ing, if  we  were  under  a  perpetual  dread  of  loiing  them, 
it  is  the  bufmefs  of  religion  and  philofophy  to  free  us 
from  all  unneccffary  anxieties,  and  direiSl  our  fear  to  its 
proper  obje61:. 

If  we  confider  the  painfulnefs  of  this  paffion,  and 
the  violeiit  eff^ds  it  produces,  we  iliall  fee  how  dan- 
gerous it  is  to  give  way  to  it  upon  (light  occafions  : 
oome  have  frightened  themfelves  into  madnefs  ;  oth- 
ers have  given  up  their  lives  to  thefe  apprehenfion-. 
The  Vloyj  of  a  man  who  grew  grey  in  the  fpace  of  one 
flight's  anxiety  is  very  famous. 

O  f:Dx  !  qiiam  kr.ga  es,  qut:e  Jacis   una  fentm  ? 

A  tedious  night  ind:ed,  that  makes  a  young  man 
^Id. 

Thefe  apprehenHons,  if  they  proceed  from  a  con- 
fcioufncfs  of  guilt,  are  the  fad  vvarnings  of  reafon,  and 
may  excite  our  pity,  but  admit  of  no  remedy.  When 
the  hand  of  the  Almighty  is  vifibly  lifted  againft  the  , 
impious,  the  heart  of  mortal  man  cannot  withftaiid 
him.  We  have  this  paHlon .  fublimely  reprefented  in 
the  puniiliment  of  the  Egyptians^  tormentejil  with  the 
plague  of  darknefs,  in  the  j^pocryphal  book  of  Wifaoniy 
afcribed  to  So'smo?i.  "  For  when  unrighteous  men 
thought  to  opprcfs  the  holy  nation  ;  they  being  fliut 
\ip  in  their  houfes,  prifoners  of  darknefs,  and  ffiter- 
■cd  with  the  bonds  of  a  long  night,  lay  there  exiled 
from,  the  eti^^nal  Providence,  For  while  they  fup* 
pofed  to  lie  hid  in  their  fecret  fins,  they  were  fcatter- 
ed  under  a  dark  veil  of  forgetfulnefs,  being  horribly 
aftoniflied  and  troubled  with  flrange  apparitions — For 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  9$^ 

wickednefs  condemned  by  her  own  witnefs,  is  very 
timorous,  and  being  opprcil^d  with  conicitiice,  al- 
ways forecafleth  grievous  things.  For  fear  is  noth- 
ing elfe  but  a  betraying  of  tlie  faccours  which  reaibii 
offcit  th — For  the  whole  world  lliin.^d  with  clear  hght, 
and  none  were  hindered  in  their  labour.  Over  them, 
only  was  fpread  a  heavy  light,  an  image  of  that  dark- 
n^fs  v/hich  fhould  afterwards  receive  them;  but  yet 
wore  th^Y  unto  themf»„lves  more  grievous  than  the 
darknefs." 

To  fear  fo  juflly  grounded,  no  remedy  can  be  pro- 
pcfcd  ;  but  a  man  (wl  o  hath  no  great  guilt  hanojng 
u, ion  his  mind,  who  walks  w.  t'le  plain  parh  of  jutiiee 
a:id  integriiy,  and  yet  either  by  natural  compltclion, 
or  confirmed  prejudices,  or  ncg!e(51:  of  furious  reflec- 
tion; fuffl^rs  liimklf  to  be  moved  by  this  abje6l  and 
ur.manly  pafTion)  would  do  wtU  to  conGdcr,  that  there 
is  nothing  which  deferves  h.is  fear,  but  that  beneficent 
Being  who  is  his  Friend,  liis  Prote6lor,  his  Father, 
Were  this  one  tliought  llvong^y  fixed  in  t!ic  rnind^ 
v^hat  calamity  would  be  dreadful  ?  What  load  can  in- 
famy lay  upon  us,  when  we  are  fure  of  the  approba- 
tion of  him  who  will  repay  the  dlfgrace  of  a  moment 
with  ihe  glory  of  eterniiy  ?  What  fharpnefs  is  tliere. 
in  pain  and  difeafes,  when  they  only  hailen  us  on  to- 
ple.i Pares  that  will  never  fade  ?  What  fling  is  in  death, 
when  we  are  affured  that  it  is  only  the  beginning  of 
life  ?  A  man  who  lives  fo  as  not  to  fear  to  die,  is  in- 
confident  with  himfelf,  if  he  delivers  himfelf  up  to  any- 
incidental  anxiety. 

The  intrepidityof  a  jufl  and  good  man  is  fo  nobly  fct 
forth  by  Horace^  that  it  cannot  be  too  often  repeated, 

T/:e  man  rcfolvd  and  ffeady  to  his  f'uf?,  > 

l:ficxihle  to  ill,  and  ohjiinately  juj}^ 

May  the  rude  rabble's  inftlence  defpife^ 

Their  fenfeJefs  clamours  and  tuinuUucui  cries  ; 

Tbe  tyrant's  fiercenefs  he  beguiles y 

And  the  ftern  bro~jOy  and  the  harjh  voice  defies^ 

And  iMith  juperior  greatnej's  fniiks. 

tyotthe  rcu^b.  vihirl  windy  that  df/6rrM 


ICO  ADDISONIAN  MISCKLLANY. 

Adrians  hlack  gulphy  and  'vexes  itixith  Jiorms^ 

^he  fiubborn  'virtue  of  liis  foul  cmn  move  ; 

I^'ot  tke  red  arm  of  angry  Jove, 

*'That  flingi  the  thunder  from  the  fiy^ 

j^nd  gives  it  rage  to  rodr^  and  firength  to  fly, 

Sheuid  the  lu  hole  frame  of  nature  round  him  hriaky 
Jn  ruin  end  corfufion  hurl'dy 
He  unconcern  d  ixiould  hear  the  mighty  cracky 
And  frayid  fe cure  amid  the  falling  nxjotld. 

The  vanity  of  fear  may  be  yet  farther  illuflrated,  if 
we  leHe^t, 

Firjf,  What  we  fear  may  not  come  to  pafs.  No  hu- 
man icheme  can  be  fo  accurately  projected,  but  fomc 
Jittie  circumftance  intervenint(,  may  fpoil  it.  He  who 
«iir€£ls  the  heart  of  man  at  his  pleafure,  and  under- 
ftands  the  thoughts  long  before,  may,  by  ten  thoufand 
accidents,  or  an  immediate  change  in  the  inclinations 
of  men,  difconccrt  the  moft  fubtle  projects,  and  turn 
it  to  the  benefit  of  his  own  fervants. 

In  the  next  place  we  fhould  confider,  though  the 
€vil  we  imagine  fliould  come  to  pafs,  it  may  be  much 
more  fapportable  than  it  fcemed  to  be.  As  there  is 
no  profperous  (late  of  life  without  its  calamities,  fo 
there  is  no  adverfity  without  its  benefits.  AFk  the 
great  and  powerful,  if  they  do  not  feel  the  pangs  of 
t-nvy  and  ambition.  Inquire  of  the  poor  and  needy, 
if  they  have  not  tafted  the  fweets  of  quiet  and  con- 
tentment. Even  under  the  pains  of  body,  the  infidel- 
ity of  friends,  or  the  mifconflrudions  put  upon  our 
laudable  actions,  our  minds  (when  for  fome  time  ac- 
•  uftomed  to  thefc  preflares)  are  fenfible  of  fccret  flow- 
ings  of  comfort,  the  prefent  reward  of  a  pious  refig- 
Tiation.  The  evils  of  this  life  appear  like  rocks  and 
^>rccipices,  rugged  and  barren  at  a  diitance  •,  but  at 
uur  nearer  approach  we  find  little  fruitful  fpots  and 
refrefiiing  fpiings,  mixed  with  the  harflmefs  and  de- 
formities of  nature. 

\xi  the  Lift  place,  we  may  comfort  ourfelves  with 
this  confideration,  that,  as  the  thing  feared  may  not 
teach  U5;  fo  wc  may  not  reach  what  we  fear.     Cujt 


.fSDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  i6r 

lives  may  not  extend  to  that  dreadful  point  which  we 
have  in  view.  He  who  knows  all  our  fallings,  and' 
will  not  fuiFer  us  to  be  tempted  beyond  our  ftrength, 
vis  often  pleafed  in  his  tender  feveritv,  to  feparate  the 
foul  from  its  body  and  miferies  together. 

If  we  look  forward  to  him  for  help,  we  (hall  never 
be  in  danger  of  falling  down  thefe  precipices,  which 
eur  impgination  is  apt  to  create.  Like  thofe  who 
Wcdk  upcn  a  liae,  if  we  keep  our  eye  fixed  upon  one 
point,  we  may  ftep  forward  fecurely  ;  whereas  an  im- 
prudent or  cowardly  glance  on  either  fide  v/ill  infalli- 
bly deilroy  us. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VIII.  No.  615, 


APPARITIONS. 


A- 


\.T  a  little  diftance  from  Sir  Rogers  houfe,  among 
tiie  ruins  of  an  old  Abfeey,  there  is  a  lont^  walk  of  ag- 
ed elms,  which  are  fliot  up  fo  very  high,  that  when 
one  pafies  under  them,  the  rooks  and  crows  that  reft 
upon  the  tops  of  them  feem  to  be  cawing  in  another 
region.  I  am  very  much  delighted  with  this  fort  of 
noife,  which  I  confider  as  a  kind  of  natural  prayer  to 
that  Being  who  fupplies  the  wants  of  his  whole  crea- 
tion, and  who,  in  the  beautiful  language  of  the  P/alms^ 
teedeth  the  young  ravens  that  call  upon  him.  I  like 
this  retirement  the  better,  becaufe  of  an  ill  report  It 
lies  under  of  being  haunted  j  for  which  reafon  (as  I 
have  been  told  by  the  family)  no  living  creature  walks 
in  it  befides  the  chaplain.  My  good  friend  the  butler 
defired  me,  with  a  grave  face,  not  to  venture  myfelf 
in  it  after  fun-fet,  for  that  one  of  the  footmen  had 
been  almoft  frightened  out  of  his  wits  by  a  Ipirit  that 
appeared  to  him  in  the  fliape  of  a  black  horfe  without  a 
head  ;  to  which  he  added,  about  a  month  ago,  one  of 
the  maids  coming  home  late  that  way  with  a  pail  o£: 
milk  on  her  head,  heard  fucha  ruftling  among  the  bufli-- 
es  that  Ihe  let  it  fall. 


^^2  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

I  was  taking  i  walk  in  this  place  lad  night,  between 
tl  e  hours  of  nine  and  ten,  and  could  not  but  fancy  it 
cne  of  the  molt  proper  fcenes  in  the  world  for  a  ghofl 
to  appear  in.      The  ruins  of   the  abbey   are  fcattered 
up  and    down  on    every  fide,  and  half   covered  witk 
ivv  and  elder  bulhes,    the  harbours  of  feveral  folitary 
birds,  which    feldom    make  their    appearance    till  the 
dufk  of  the  evening.       The   place    was   formerly  a 
church-yard,    and   has    flill    feveral   marks    in  it   of 
graves  and   tomb-flones.       There   is    fuch  an    echo 
among  tli"  old  ruins  and  walks,  that  if  you  ftamp  but 
a  little  louder  than  ordinary,  you  hear  the  found  re- 
peated.    At  the  fame  time  the  walk  of  elms,  with  the 
croaking  of  the  ravens,  which  from  time  to  time  are 
heard  from   the   tops  of  them,  look  exceedingly  foU 
tmn  and  venerable.       Thefe  obje£ts  naturally  raife 
■ferioufnefs  and  attention  ;  and  wiien  night  heightens 
the  awfulncfs  of  the  place,  and  pours  out  her  fupernu- 
?nerary  horrors  upon   every  thing  in  it,  I  do  not  at  all 
wonder  tliat  weak  minds  fill   it  with  fpedres  and  ap- 
|raritions. 

Mr.  Locke^  in  his  chapter  of  the  aiTociation  of  ideas, 
has  very  curious  remarks  to  ihew  how  by  the  prejudice 
of  education  one   idea  often  introduces  into  the  mind 
a  whole  fee  that  bear   no  refemblance  to  one  another 
in  the  nature  of  things.     Among  feveral  examples  of 
this  kind,  he  produces  the  foliowing  inftance   :    The 
ideas  of  goblins  and  fprights^  ha^ve  really  no  more  to  do  twiih 
■  4arkr.ejs  than  light  :   Tei  let  but  a  fiolijh  maid  inculcate  thefe 
often  ctt  'the  tnind  of  a   child,  and  raife  them  there   together, 
fofjlbly   he  fhall  never    he  alle  to  feparate    them    again  fa 
long   as  he  lives  ;  hut  darknejs  Jhail  e^ver  afiernjuards  bring 
twith  it  thcfe  frightful  ideas,  and  they  pall  be  fo  joined,  that 
he  can  no  more  hear  the  one  than  the  other.     As  I  was  walk- 
ing in  this  folitude,  where    the  dufk  of  the  evening 
confpired  with  fo  m.any   other  occafions  of  terror,  t 
cbferved  a  cow  grazing  not  fnr  from  me,  which  an  im- 
agination that  was  apt  to  ftartl'e  might  eafily  have  con- 
ilrued  into  a  black  horfe  without  a  liead  \  and  I  dare 
fay  the  poor  footman  loft  his  wits  upon  fcxne  fuch 
iyivjal  occafioa. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  103 

My  friend  Sir  P.oger  has  often  told  me,  with  a  great 
eleal  of  mirth,  that  at  his  firft  coming  to  his  eflate  he 
found  three  parts  of  his  houfe  almoll  ufelefs  ;  that 
the  bsft  room  in  it  had  the  reputation  of  being,  haun- 
ted, and  by  that  means  was  locked  up  ;  that  noifes 
had  been  heard  in  his  long  gallery,  fo  that  he  could 
not  get  a  fervant  to  enter  into  it  af>:er  eight  o'clock  at 
night  ;  that  the  door  of  one  of  his  chambers  was  nail- 
ed up,  becaufe  there  went  a  ftory  in  the  family,  that  a 
Butler  formerly  had  hanged  himfelf  in  it,  and  that 
Ris  mother,  who  lived  to  a  great  age,  had  fhut  up  half 
the  rooms  in  the  houfe,  in  which  either  her  hufband, 
a  fon,  or  daughter,  had  died.  The  knight,  feeing  his 
habitation  reduced  to  fo  fmall  a  compafs,  and  him- 
ielf  in  a  manner  fliut  out  of  his  own  houfe,  upon, 
the  death  of  his  mother  orvi.^red  all  the  apartments  to 
be  flung  open,  and  exerctf^d  by  his  chaplain,  who  lay 
in  every  room  one  after  another,  and  by  that  means- 
diiTipated  the  fears  which  had  fo  long  reigned  in  the 
family. 

I  Ihould  not  have  been  thus  particular  upon  thefe 
ridiculous  horrors,  did  i  not  find  them  fo  very  much 
prevail  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  At  the  fame  timej>. 
I  think  a  perfon  who  is  thus  terrified  with  the  ima- 
gination of  ghofts  and  fpeitres  much  more  reafonable 
than  one  who,  contrary  to  the  reports  of  all  hiftorians, 
facred  and  profane,  ancient  and  modern,  and  to  the 
t^, traditions  of  all  nations,  thinks  the  appearance  of  fpir- 
^  -its  fabulous  and  groundlefs.  Could  not  I  give  myfelf 
up  to  this  general  teftimony  of  mankind,  I  ihould. 
to  the  rebtion  of  particular  perfons  now  living,  awd 
whom  I  cannot  diftrull  in  other  matters  of  fa£l.  I 
might  here  add,  that  not  only  the  hiftorians,  to  whorR^ 
we  may  join  the  poets,  but  likev/ife  the  philofophers 
of  antiquity  have  favoured  this  opinion.  Lucre- 
tius himfelf  though  by  the  courfe  of  his  philofophy  he- 
was  ol^^ed  to  maintain  that  the  foul  did  not. exift'fep- 
arate  from  the  body,  makes  no  doubt  of  the  reality  cf 
apparitions,  and  that  men  have  often  appeared  after., 
their  death.  This  I  think  very  remarkable  \  he  v/as 
fo  prefTed  with  the  matter  of  faft.  which  he  could  not: 


ic 4  ADDISONIAN^  M'lSCELLANY. 

have  the  confidence  to  deny,  tli^.t  he  was  forced  lO  a C-^ 
count  for    it  by  one  of  the  moit  abfurd,  unphilofophi> ,, 
cal   notions  that   was  ever  ilarted.      He  tells  us,  that  ^, 
the  furfaces  of  all    bodies   are   pcrp':tuaMy    flying  oiT  i 
from  their  refpective   bodies,  one  after  another  ;   and    1 
that  thofe  furfaces,  or  thin  cafes,   that  included    each 
other   whilfl  they  were  joined    iii  the  bcdy,   like  the 
coats  of  an  onion,  are    fomctimes    feen  entire    whcrt 
they  are  feparated  from  it ;  by  which  means  we  often 
behold  the  fhnpes  and  Ihadows  of  pe.fors  who  are  ei- 
ther dead  or  abfcnt. 

I  ftiall  difmifs  this    pap'?r  with  a  fiery,  out  of  Jo.?* 
fhus^  not  fo  much  for  the  fiike  of  the  (lory  itfclf,  as  fcr-' 
the  moral  reflecVJons  with  which  the  author  concludes 
it,  and  whirh  I  fhall  here  fct  down  in  his  own  word?; 
Glaphyruy  the  daughter  of  king  Archelaui^  after  the  death 
of  her  two  firil  hufbands,   (being   married  to  a  third,, 
who  wns  brother  to  her  iirlt  hufb/md,  and    fo  paiTion-c 
ately  in^love  with  her  th:U   he  turnrd  off  his  former 
M'ife  to  make  room- for  this  marriage)   had  a  very  od,^ 
kind  of  dreami     She  fancied  that  (he  faw  her  firlt  huf-- 
band  coming  towards  her,  and  that  flie  embraced  hira 
with  great  tender nefs  5    when,    in   the   mid  (I  of   the  > 
j?leafure  which  Oie  exprefFed  at  the  fight  of  him,  he  re-. 
proached  her    after,  the  following   manner  :  Glaphyra,. 
fays  he,  thou,  haft  made  good  the  old  faying,  that  v/o- 
men  are  not  to  be  trufted.      Was  1  not  thchufband  of 
thy    virginity  ?.    Have  I  not  children  by  thee   ?     How   , 
couldlt  thou  forget  our  loves  {o  far  as  to  enter  into  a 
fecond  marriage,  and  after  that  into  a  third  \  nay,  to,-^ 
take   for  thy  huiband   a   man   who  has  fo  fhamefullyij 
crept  into  the  bed  of   his   brother  ?  However,  for  the;; 
fake  of  our  paft.loves,  I  iliali  free  thee  frcm  thy  prefent?: 
reproach,  and  raake  thee  mine  forever.     Glaphyra  tol^- 
this  dream  to  feyeral  women  of  her  acquaintance,  and': 
died  foon  after.      I  thought   this  (lory  might  not   be 
ihapertinent.in  this   place,  wherein  I    fpeak  «?f  thofe 
kings  ;    befides  that  the  example  deferves  to  be  taken  - 
notice  of,  as  it  contains  a  moft  certain,  proof  of  the 
immortality  of  the  foul,  and  of  Divine  Providence.    If 
any  man  thinks  thefe  fa^ls  incredible^  let  him  enjoj; 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ic^ 

Jiis  own  opinion  Ijimfelf,  but  let  him  not  diftitrb  the 
opinion  of  others,  who  by  inltances  of  this  nature  are 
excited  to  the  ftudy  of  virtue. 

Spectator,  VoL  II.  No.  1 1  o.  L. 


C: 


APPEARANCES. 


HREMYLUS,  who  was  an  old  and  good  man, 
and  with.ill  exceeding  poor,  being  defirous  to  leave  fome 
riches  to  his  Ton,  con fu Its  the  Oracle  of  ApcUo  upon  the 
fubje^l.  The  Oracle  bids  him  follow  the  firfi:  man  he 
fhould  fee  upon  his  gouig  out  of  the  temple.  The  per- 
fon  he  chanced  to  fee,  was,  to  appearance,  an  old  for- 
did blind  man  ;  but  upon  his  following  liim  from 
place  to  place,  he  at  lall  found  by  his  own  confeflion, 
that  he  was  FliHusy  the  God  of  Riches,  and  that  he  was 
jud  come  out  of  the  houfe  of  a  mifer.  Plutus  farther 
told  him,  that  when  he  was  a  boy  he  ufed  to  declare, 
that  as  foon  as  he  came  to  age  he  would  diflributc 
wealth  to  none  but  virtuous  and  juft  men  ;  upon 
which  Jupiter,  confiderihg  the  pernicious  confequences 
of  fuch  a  refolution,  took  his  fight  away  from  Inm, 
and  left  him  to  flroll  about  in  the  world  rn  the  blind 
condition  wherein  Cliremylus  beheld  him.  With  much 
ado  ChreiK'jlus  prevailed  with  lum  to  go  to  his  houfe, 
where  he  met  an  old  woman  in  a  tattered  raiment, 
who  had  been  his  gueft  for  many  years,  and  whofe 
name  was  Po'verty.  The  old  woman  lefufing  to  turn 
out  fo  eafily  as  he  would  have  her,  he  threatened  not 
only  to  banifli  her  his  own  houfe,  but  out  of  all  Greecey 
if  fhe  made  any  more  words  upon  the  matter.  Pci/- 
erty,  on  this  occaiion,  pleads  her  own  caufe  very  nota- 
bly, and  reprefents  to  her  old  landlord,  that,  {hould 
file  be  driven  out  of  the  country,  all  their  trades,  arts 
and  fciences  would  b :  driven  out  w'ith  her  ;  and  that 
if  every  one  was  rich,  they  would  never  be  fupplied 
with  thofe  pomps,  ornaments,  and  conveniences  of 
life  which  made  riches  defirable.  She  like  wife  repre- 
fented  t©  him  the  feveral  advantages  flie  beftowed  up- 
on her  votaries  in  regard  to  their  lliape,  their  health. 


io(5  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  - 

and  their  activity,  by  preftTvuig  them  froni  goufg, 
dropfies,  unwieldinels,  and  interr.perance.  But,  what- 
ever ihe  hid  to  fay  for  hcrft.lf,  Ihe  was  at  iall  forced' 
to  troop  orr. 

C/?r(?/ffv/«;immediatchy  confiderec!  how  he  might  reftcre 
Plufus  to  his  fight,  and,  in  order  to  it,  conveyed  h:m 
to  the  temple  of  ^S/cu/atJus,  who  was  famous  for  cures 
and  miracles  of  this  nature.  By  this  means  the  deity 
recovered  his  ev^es,  and  began  to  make  a  right  ufe  of 
them,  by  enriching  every  one  that  was  dillinguiOicd 
by  piety  towards  the  go'^s,  and  juilice  towards  men  ; 
and  at  the  fame  time  by  taking  away  his  gifts  frora. 
the  impious  and  undefervinfr.  This  produces  feveral 
merry  inftnnces,  till  in  the  L.ri:  a£^  Mercury  defcends 
with  great  complaints  from  the  gods,  that  fmce  the 
good  men  v/ere  grown  rich  they  had  received  no  fa- 
crifices',  which  is  confirmed  by  a  prit.ft  of  J-ipiter^ 
who  enters  with  a  remOnftrance,  that  flnce  this  late 
innovation  he  was  reduced  to  a  fbarving  co:iditicn, 
atm  could  not  live  upon  his  office.  Chrem.lus^  who  ia 
the  beginning  of  the  play  was  religious  in  his  poverty^ 
concludes  it  with  a  propofal  wnicli  was  relifhed  by  all 
the  good  men  who  were  now  grown  rich  as  well  as 
himfelf,  that  they  ihiould  carry  Plutus  in  a  procefuon  ta 
the  temple,  and  iiiflall  him  in  the  place  of  Jupiter, 

This  allegory  inftrufled  the  Athenians  in  two  points  \. 
firft,  as  it  viTii^icatcd  the  conduil:  of  Providence  in 
its  ordinary  diftributions  of  wealth  :  and  in  the  next 
place,  as  it  ihowed  the  great  tendency  of  riches  to 
corrupt  the  morals  of  thafe  who  poff.riled  them. 

SrECTATOR,  Vol.  VI.  No.  464.  C. 


APPETITES. 


\  am  now  in  the  Hxty-fifrh  3^ear  of  my  age,  and  hay- 
ing been  the  greater  pnrt  of  my  days  a  man  of  plcafure, 
the  decay  of  my  faculties  is  a  ftagnation  of  my  life. 
But  how  is  it,  Sir,  that  my  appetites  are  incrcafed  up- 
on me  with  the  lofs  of  power  to  gratify  them  ?  % 
write  this,  like  a  criminal,  tx)  warn  people  to  enter  up^. 


ADDISON.  AN  MISCELLANY.  107 

on  what  reformation  they   pleafe   to  make    in  them- 
felves  in  their  youth,  and  net  expert  they  Ihiill  be  ca- 
pable of  it  from  a    fond  opinion   fome  have-^,. often  in 
thc-ir  mouths,  that  if  we  do  not  leave  our  dciires  they 
will  leave  us.     It  is  far  otherwife  ;  I  am  now  as  vain 
in  my  tlrcfs,  and  as  flippant  if  i  fee    a  pretty  woman, 
as  when  in    my  youth  1  Hood  upon  a  bench  m  the  pit 
to  furvey  the  whole  circle  of  beauties.     The   folly    is 
fo  fxtr.ivap^ant  with  me,  and  I  went  on    with   fo  little 
c]  eck  of  iiy  dciires  o^  refignation  of  them,  that  I  can 
al]\ir.   youj  1  very   often,   merely  to  entertain  my  own 
thoughtj,  f.t  v^^itU  rny  fpecfackson,   writing   love   let- 
ters 10  th:  beauties  that  have  been   long  ilnce  in  their 
graves.     Tiiis    is   to    warm    my    heart  with  the  faint 
memory  of  delights   which   were    once   agreeable   to 
me  *,  but  how  niueh  happier  would  my  life  have  been 
now,  if  I  couli  have  locked   back  on  any   worthy  ac- 
tion done  for  my  country  i   if  1  had  laid  out  that  which 
1  profufed  in  luxury  and  wantomiefs,  in  a^lo  of  gene- 
rolity   and   chiii:y  r    I    have  lived  a  bachelor  to  this 
day  J  and  inllcad  of  a  numerous  offspring,  with  which 
in   the  regular  w^ys  of  life  I  might   polhbly  have  de- 
lighted myfelf,  I  have  only   to   anu-ife  inyfclf  with  the 
repetition  of  old  ftories  and  intrigues,  which  no    one 
Avill  believe  I  cVjr  was  concerned  in.     I  do  not  know 
whether  you  have  ever  treated  of  it  or  not  i  but   you 
cannot  fal:  on  a  better  fubjed,  than  that  of  the  art  of 
growing  old.      In  fuch  a  lecture  you    mufl   propofe, 
that  no  one  fet  his  lie.irt  upon  v/hat  is  tranfient  i  that 
beauty  grows  M-iinkLd  while    we   are  yet    ga/ing  at 
her.    The  winy  man  fmks  into  an    humouriit   imper- 
ceptibly, for  want  of  reflecting  that  all  things  around 
him  are  in  a  flux,  and  continually  changing.     Tlius  he 
is  in  the  fpiice  often  or  fifteen  years  furrounded   by  a 
new  fet  of  people,  whofe   manners   are  as  natural  to 
them  as  his  deiiglits,  method  of  chinking  and  mode  of 
living,  were  foiinerly  to  him  and  his  friends  :    but  the 
■mifchief  is,  he  looks  upon  the    fame    kind    of  errors 
^lieh  he  himfeif  was  guilty  of,  with  an  eye  of  fcorn, 
and  wiih  that    fort  of    ili-\vi!l  which   men   entertain 
-agaiiiil   each  otuv^r   for  diil^tsnt   opinions.     Thus  a 


isS  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY, 


1 


crazy  conflitution,  and  an  uneafy  mind  is  fretted  with 
vexatious  paiTions,  for  young  nien's  doing  foolilhly 
what  it  is  folly  to  do  at  all.  Dt  .ir  Sir,  this  is  my  pre- 
fent  ft^te  of  mind  j  I  hate  thoie  I  fhould  laugh  at, 
and  envy  thofe  I  contemn.  The  time  of  youth  and 
vigorous  manhood,  pafled  the  way  in  which  I  have 
dilpofcd  of  it,  is  attended  with  thefe  confcquences  j  but 
to  chole  who  live  and  pafs  away  time  as  they  ought, 
all  parts  of  it  are  equally  pleafant  ;  only  the  memory 
of  good  and  worthy  a£lions,  is  a  feaft  which  muft 
eivc  a  quicker  rejiHi  to  the  foul  than  ever  it  could  taftc^ 
in  the  highcft  enjoyments  or  jollities  of  youth.  Ajj 
for  ne,  if  I  fit  down  i:i  my  great  chair,  and  begin  to' 
ponder,  the  vagaries  of  a  child  are  not  more  ridicu- 
lous than  the  circumltances  which  are  heaped  up  in 
my  memory  •,  fine  gowns,  country  dances,  ends  of 
tunes,  interrupted  converfations,  and  midnight  quar- 
rels, are  what  mufb  neceflarily  compofe  my  foliloquy. 
I  beg  of  you  to  print  this,  that  lome  ladies  of  my  ac- 
quaintance and  my  years,  may  be  perfuaded  to  wear 
warm  night-caps  this  cold  feafon  5  and  that  my  old 
friend  Juik  I anvdry  may  buy  him  a  cane,  and  not 
creep  with- the  air  of  ftrut.  I  muft  add  to  3II  this, 
that  if  it  were  not  for  one  pleafure,  which  I  thought  a 
very  mean  one  till  of  very  ;ate  years,  1  ihould  have  no 
great  fatisf aft  ion  left  ;  but  if  I  live  to  the  loth  of 
March,  17 14,  and  all  my  fecuiities  are  good,.  I  fhaU 
be  worth  fifty  thoufand  pounds. 
1  am,  Sfty 

Tour  mofi  humhle  Serruant^ 

JACK  AFTERDAY. 
Spectator,  Vol.  IV.  No.  260.  T. 

Nature  has  implanted  in  us  two  very  ftrong  dc" 
fires,  hunger  for  the  prefervation  of  the  individual, 
and  lufl:  for  the  fupport  of  the  fpecies  :  or,  to  fpeak 
more  intelligibly,  the  former  to  continue  our  own 
perfons,  and  the  latter  to  introduce  others  into  the 
world.  According  as  men  behave  themfelves  with 
regard  to  thefe  appetites,  they  are  above  or  below  the 
beafts  of  the  field,  which  are  incited  by  them  without 
x:hpice  or  refledion.     But  reafonable   creatures   cor- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLAXY  ic^ 

f"ccftvc<}:    thefe  incentives,    and    improve    them  into 
<elep:nnt  motives  of  friendfliip  and  fociety.     It  is  chief- 
ly from  this  homely  foundation  that  we  aie  under  the 
Tu'ctihty  of  fteking  for  the  agreeable   companion  and 
the  honourable  miftrefs.     By    this  cultivation  of  art 
;iTid  reafon,  our  wants   are    made   pleafures,  and  tlic 
.gratiti cation  of  our  defires,  under  proper  reftridliona, 
a  work   no   way  below   our   noblclt    faculties.      The 
wifetl  man  may  maintain  his  chara<5ler,  and  yet  con- 
lidcT  in  what  manner  h.^  fhall  beil  entertain  his  friend, 
or  divert  his  miftrefs  :  nay,  it  is   fo   far  from   being  ;i 
•derogation  to  him,  that  he  can    in   no  othtr    inftmce 
fliow  fo  true  a  talte  of  his  life   or  his  fortune.     What 
■concerns  one  of  the  above-mentioned  app.  tites,  as  it  is 
J.  /elevated  into  love,  1  {nail  have  abundant  occafion    to 
i  .4ifcourfe  of,  before  I  liave  provided  for   the  number- 
-.   S^h  crowd  of  damfels  I  have  propofed  to  take  car<^  of. 
The  fubje6l  of  the  prefent  paper  Ihall  be  tliat  part  of 
-iociety  winch  owes  its  beginning  to  the   common  nc- 
celuty  of   hunger.     When  that  is  con-fidcred  as  the 
Support  of  our  being,  we  may  take   it  under  the  fame 
•head,  third  alfo  ;  othcrvvife,    when    we   aie  purfuin^ 
.the  glutton,  the  drunkard  may  make  his  efcape.     The 
choice  ot  our  diet  and  our  companions  at  it,    feems  to 
conhit  in  that  which  contributes  moft  to  cheerfulnef;; 
and  refrefln-i^jnt  ',   and  thefe  arc  beft  confulted  by  fim- 
plicity  in  the  food,  ajid  fmcerity  in  the  company.      By 
this  rule  are,  in  the  'firil   place,  excluded   from    pre- 
tence to  happinefs,   all  meals  of   itate   and  ceremony, 
uliich  are  performed  in  dumb  {how  and  greedy   fulki- 
^cfs.     At  the  boards  of  the  great,  they  fav,  you  Ihall 
iave  a    number   attending   Vv'ith  as  good'  habits  and 
•■countenances  as  the  gueils  ;  which  only  circumftance 
■  nmlt  dcitroy  the  whole  plea fwe  of  the  renall  :  For   If 
fuch  attemlants  are  introduced  for<he  dignity  of  their 
appearance,  mo  left  minds  are  Ihocked  by  confidering 
-tlum  as  fpe61.itors  ;  or  elfe  look  upon  thcrn  as  equals, 
.for  whofc  f^^rvit-ude  they  are  in    a  kind   of  fuffering* 
•1-t  may  be  h'^re  added,  that  the  fnmptuous  fide-board, 
4-0  an  ingenious  eye  has  more  the  -stV  of  an  altar  than 
2.  tablj.     The  next  abiurd    way  of  enjoying  aurfelves 


tio  ADDISONIAN   MISCELLANY. 

at  meals  is,  where  the  bottle  is  plied  without  beingj 
railed  for,  v/here  humour  takes  place  of  appetite,  and 
the  good  company  are  too  dull  or  too  merry  to  know 
any  enjoyment  of  their  fenfes. 

Though  this  part  of  time  is  abfoliitely  neceffary  to 
fultaiii  lufi  it  muft  alfo  be  confidered,  that  life  itfelf 
is  to  the  endlefs  being  of  man  but  what  a  meal  is  to 
this  life,  not  valuable  for  itfelf,  but  for  the'  purpofe  of 
it.  If  there  be  any  truth  in  this,  the  expence  of 'many 
hours  this  way  is  fomewhat  uiraccountable  ;  and  pla- 
cing much  thought  either  in  too  great  fumptuoufnefs 
and  elegance  in  this  matter,  or  wallowing  in  noife  or 
riot  at  it,  are  both,  though  not  equally,  unaccountable. 
I  have  often  conlidered  thefe  difterent  people  with  ve- 
ry great  attention,  and  always  fpeak  of  them  with  the 
diftinclion  of  the  Eaters  and  Swallowers.  The  Eaf- 
ers  facriSce  all  their  fenfes  and  underftanding  to  thh 
appetite  :  The  Swallowers  hurry  themfelves  out  of 
both,  without  pleafmg  this  or  any  other  appetite  at 
•all.  The  latter  are  improved  brutes  ;  the  former  de- 
generated men.  I  have  fometimes  thought  it  would 
not  be  improper  to  add  to  my  dead  and  living  men, 
perlons  in  an  intermediate  ftate  of  humanity,  under 
the  appellation  of  dozers.  The  dozers  are  a  fe6l,  who, 
inftead  of  keeping  their  appetites  in  fubjeclion,  live  in 
iubje<£i:io!i  to  them  :  nay^,  they  are  fo  truly  flaves  to 
them,  that  they  keep  at  too  great  a  diftance  ever  to 
come  into  their  prefence.  Within  my  own  acquaint- 
ance, I  know  thofe  that  I  dare  fay  have  forgot  that  they 
ever  were  hungry,  and  are  no  lefs  ftrangers  to  thirft 
and  wearinefs  ;  who  are  beholden  to  fauces  for  their 
food,  and  to  their  food  for  their  wearinefs. 

I  have  often  wondered,  confidering  the  excellent 
and  choice  fpirits  that  we  have  among  our  divines,  that 
they  do  not  think  of  putting  vicious  habifs  into  a  more 
contemptible  and  unlovely  figure  than  they  do  at  pre- 
fenr  ;  fo  many  men  of  wit  and  fpirit,  as  there  are  in 
facred  orders,  have  it  their  power  to  make  the  faihioa 
'of  their  fide.  The  leaders  in  human  fociety  are  more 
'efFeftually  prevailed  upon  this  way  than  can  be  eafdy 
•iriiagined.     1  have  more  than  one  in  my  thoughts  ta- 


ADDSONIAN  MISCELLANY,  tit 

pable  of  doing  this  againfl  all  the  oppofirion  of  the 
moft  witty  as  well  as  the  moil  voluptuous.  There 
may  be  pofFibly  more  acceptable  fubjeiSls,  but  fure 
there  are  none  more  ufeful.  It  is  viiible,  that  though 
men's  fortunes,  circumilanccs,  and  pieafures,  give 
them  prepoilelhons  too  flrong  to  regard  any  mention 
either  of  punifhments  or  rewarcfs,  they  "will  liflen  to 
what  makes  them  inconfiderahle  or  mean  in  the  ima-' 
gination  of  others,  and  by  degrees  in  their  own. 

I»:  is  certain  fuch  topics  are  to  be  touched  u])on,  in' 
the  light  we  mean,  only  by  men  of  the  moil  confum- 
mate  prudence,  as  well  as  excellent  wit :  For  thefe 
diicouifes  are  to  be  made  (if  made  to  run  into  exam, 
pie)  before  fuch  as  have  their  thoughts  more  intei't 
upon  the  propriety  than  the  reafcn  of  the  difcourfe. 
What  indeed  L^ads  me  into  tliis  way  of  thinking  is, 
that  the  laft  tiling  I  read,  was  a  fermon  of  the  learned 
Dr.  Ssu/7if  upon  the  ^cvujs  cf  pkafetntnefs.  This  admi- 
rable difcourfe  was  made  at  court,  where  the  preach- 
er was  too  wife  a  man  not  to  believe,  the  greateil  ar- 
gument in  that  place,  againfT;  the  plcafures  th^n  in 
vogue,  mud  be,  that  they  1o(l  greater  plcafures  by 
proiecuting  the  courfc  they  were  in.  The  charmln* 
difcourfe  has  iii  it  whatever  wit  or  Vvifdcm  can  put  to- 
gether. This  gentleman  has  a  talent  of  making  all 
his  faculties  bear  to  the  great  end  of  his  hallowed 
profeihon.  Happy  genius  !  He  is  the  better  man  for 
being  a  wit.  The  bed  way  to  praife  this  author,  is  to 
quote  him  ;  and  I  think  I  may  defy  any  man  to  fay  a 
greater  thing  of  him  or  his  ability,  than  that  there 
are  no  paragraphs  in  t?ie  whole  difcourfe  I  fpcak  of, 
below  thefe  which  follow. 

After  haviag  recommended  the  fatisfadlion  of  the. 
mind,  and  the  pleafure  of  confeicnce,   he  proceeds  : 

/hi  envoblitfg  propirty  cf  it  is^  that  il  is  f::ch  a  pUafui  f  as 
rever  Jritiates  or  ivearies  \  for  it  profcrlj  offcSis  the  fpirit^ 
av.d  a  fpirit  feels  no  ivearinefs^  as  being  pvivikged  from  the 
caufcs  of  it-  ^"■t  can  the  Epicure  /iaj  fo  of  any  cf  the  plea^ 
fares  that  he  fo  much  dotei  upon  ?  Do  they  ret  expire  n.vh:le 
they  fat  is/y,  a  fid,  after  a  feuo  minutes  refrejhmer.t^  determine 
in  loathing  and  n  in nieinefs  ?     Hqow  fport  is  the  interval  Ce- 


lu'i  ADDISONIAN  M.SCELLANT. 

twceen  a  pleafure  ar.d  a  burden^  !  Ho^tj  indifcernahle  the  Iran^ 
ft  ton  ft  om  one  to  the  o'her  !  Pleafure  do  ells  no  hn^er  upon  the 
appetite  than  the  vecejfuks  of  nature,  ixj/iick  are  quickly  a?id 
eofly  prouided  for  ;  and  then  all  thutfolloxvs  is  a  loc4d  and  an 
ftpprejjion.  Every  morfcl  to  a  fati.fcd  hunger ^  is  only  a  new 
labour  to  a  tired  digejiion  ;  enjery  draught  to  him  that  has 
quenched  his  thirji^  is  but  a  further  quehchin^  of  nature  y  ar.d  a 
pre-vi/ion  for  rheum  and  dijeajes  j  a  di  O'lX  uing  of  the  quicknefs  ' 
and  acii^it .  of  the  fpirits . 

He  ihui  piolongs  his  7nc<As,  and facrifices  his  time  as  nx.ell 
as  his  cona/cniences  to  his  luxury  ^  hojo  quickly  dots  he  ouift  his 
fUafure  !  And  then,  hciv  is  all  the  foHo<v:ing  time  befoived 
upon  ceremony  and  fuyjeit  I  Till  at  length,  afiet  a  Icng  fuiij^ue 
of  euting  and  drinking.,  and  buLUinji,  he  ccmludes  the  greet 
nvork  Of  dining  genietlhy  and  fo  makes  afift  to  rife  f  om  ta^ 
tle^  that  he  may  lie  do  ULn  upon  his  bed  ;  njcherty  aft:r  he  has 
^Jlept  himftifintofome  nfe  cf  himfcf  by  much  ado  he  Jiaggers  ta 
kis  table  again^  and  there  ails  oxer  the  fame  brulijh  fcene  .  fa 
that  he piffcs  kis  nx'hole  lif  in  a  d^'z.ed  c^ndiiianyhe  nxeen  fep- 
jng  and  nvuking,  qjjith  a  kind  ef  dr  o-u-/inefs  and  conftfon  upon 
ins  fnfs,  nulticJi^  nxihat  pleajure  it  can  le^  is  hard  to  concanje  : 
all  thai  is  of  it  dwells  upon  the  tip  of  his  tO'  (fue,  and  njjithin 
the  conipcfs  of  his  palate,  A  ix'crthy'  pr.Zt  fr  a  mun  to  pur- 
ihi'Js  v^iththe  lofs  of  his  lime^his  reafon  and  lunf'elf  ! 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.  205. 


APFLAUSE. 

have  often  wondered  that  tlie  Ji^xs  Oiould  con- 
trive fuch  a  worthlefs  greatntls  ior  the  deliverer 
whom  they  expelled,  as  to  drcfs  him  up  in  extern/d. 
j-.onip  and  pageantry,  and  rtprefent  him  to  their  ima- 
;<ination  as  making  havock  of  liis  creatures,  and  act- 
ing With  the  poor  ambiron  of  a  Caf.r  or  an  Alexander.. 
>iow  much  more  iL'uftrious  doth  he  appear  in  hib  real 
<:haracl:er,  when  coiifidcied  as  the  author  of  univcr- 
i.d  benevolence  among  men,  as  refining  our  paiTions, 
exalting  our  nature,  giving  us  vaft  ideas  of  immoitali- 
ty,  and  teaching  us  a  contempt  of  tlvat  little  fliowy 
^ranileur  wherein  the  fc^vs  made  the  glory  ci  the 
Mejfuh  to  confifl. 


ADDISONFAN  MISCELLANY.  ir:; 

Nothing  (fays  Lovginui)  can  be  great ^  the  ccnietr.pt 
of^hich  is  great.  The  poflePiion  of  wealth  and  riches 
canaot  give  a  man  a  title  to  grcatnefs,  becaufe  ir  is 
looked  upon  as  agreatnefs  of  mind  to  contemn  thefe 
gifts  of  fortune,  and  to  be  above  the  defire  of  them. 
I  have  been  therefore  incHned  to  think,  tlwt  there  are 
greater  men  who  lie  concealed  among  the  fpecies,  than 
thofe  who  come  out  and  draw  upon  themfelves  the  eye 
and  admiration  of  mankind.  Virgil  would  never  have 
bee-n  heard  of,  had  not  hisdomeftic  misfortunes  driven 
him  out  of  his  obfcurity,  and  brought  him  to  Rome. 

If  we  fuppofe  that  there  are  fpirits  or  angels  who 
look  into  tiie  ways  of  men,  as  it  is  highly  probable 
tliere  are,  both  from  reafon  and  revelation,  how  dif- 
ferent are  the  notions  which  they  entertain  of  us,  from 
thofe  which  we  are  apt  to  form  of  one  another  !  Were 
they  to  give  us  their  catalogue  of  fuch  worthies  as 
are  now  living,  how  different  would  it  be  from  that 
which  any  of  our  fpecies  would  draw  up  !  ' 

We  are  dazzled  with  the  Iplendour  of  titles,  the  of- 
tentation  of  learning,  the  noife  of  vidlories.  They,  on 
the  contrary,  fee  the  philofopher  in  the  cottage,  who 
poiTeiles  his  foul  in  patience  and  thankfulnefs,  under 
the  prefiures  of  what  little  minds  call  poverty  and  dif- 
trefs.  They  do  not  look  for  great  men  at  the  hcsd 
of  armies,  or  among  the  pomps  of  the  court,  but  often 
find  them  out  in  fhades  and  folitudes,  in  the  private 
walks  and  by-paths  of  life.  The  evening's  walk  of  a 
wife  man  is  m.ore  illuftrious  in  their  figiit,  than  the 
march  of  a  General  at  the  head  of  an  hundred  thou^ 
fand  men.  A  contemplation  of  God's  works  ;  a  vol« 
untary  a£l:  of  juftice  to  our  own  detriment ;  a  gene- 
rous concern  for  the  good  of  mankind  •,  tears  that  are 
Ihed  in  filence  for  the  mifery  of  others  •,  a  private  de- 
fire  of  refentment  broken  and  fubdued  ;  in  fliort,  an 
unfeigned  exercife  of  humility,  or  any  other  virtue  ; 
are  fuch  actions  as  are  glorious  in  their  fight,  and  de- 
nominate men  great  and  reputable.  The  mofl  fa- 
mous among  us  are  often  looked  upon  with  pity,, 
with  contempt,  or  with  indignation  5  while  thofe  who 
K2 


114  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

are  mon:  obfcure  among    their    own  fpecies,  are   re- 
giirded  with  love,  with  approbation  and  eftcem. 

Vhe  moral  of  the  prtlent  application  amounts  to 
this,  that  we  fliould  not  be  led  away  by  the  cenfure 
and  applaule  of  men,  but  confider  the  iigure  that  eve- 
ry pjricn  will  make  at  that  time  when  wifdom  fhall 
be  juilihed  of  her  children,  and  nothing  pafs  for  great 
or  iiluilrious,  which  is  not  an  ornament  and  perfec- 
tion to  human  nature. 

The  (lory  of  G^-^/,  the  x\cn.  Lydi an  monarch,  is  a 
memorable  inflance  to  our  preftnt  purpofe.  The 
oracle  being  alked  by  Gygts^  who  was  the  happieft  man: 
replied,  AgLuus.  (^ygesy  who  expected  to  have  heard 
Iiimielf  named  upon  this  occahon,  was  much  furpri- 
fed,  and  very  curious  to  know  v^^ho  this  Jglaus  fliould 
be.  After  much  inquiry,  he  was  found  to  be  an 
obfcure  countryman,  who  employed  all  his  time  in 
cultivating  a  garden,  and  a  few  acres  of  ground  about 
his  houfe. 

Covuleyi  agreeable  relation  of  this  flory,  fhall  clofe 
this  day's  fpcculation. 

^hus  Agla'uS,  (a  man  ur.knoivn  to  7ren^ 

But  the  gcds  kneuj^  and  therefore  lo'v^ d  him  then). 

^Thuslinj^d  cbfcureU,  then  nnsithvut  a  naj/is, 

AgLuS,  no%v  conjignd  t'  itemal  fame. 

Sor  Gvges,  ike  rich  kin^s  luuksd  and  great y 

Pre/um  d  at  njcije  Apo"iL*b  Dclphicy^^^/, 

.Prefunid  to  ajky  O  /bcu^  the  fwhcle  nvorld' s  eye^ 

Se.e'jl  thou  a  man  that  happitr  //  //«//  /  ? 

*J'he  s^od^  'who  fcorri*  d  to  flatter  man,  '"^/^^'V, 

Ag^SLS  happier  is.     But  Gyges  cryd, 

In  ^  jj  ..lid  rage,  ivho  can  //w/ AglaaS  le  ? 

We've  Jieardas    et  ofno  j'uchkivg  as  he. 

And  true  it  ivas    through  tli£  <ix:hole  eartkaroundf 

No  king  of  fuck  a  name  ivas  to  he  found. 

Is  feme  old  hero  oj  that  name  ali^ve^ 

Who  his  high  rate  ..cesfrom  the  gods  deri've? , 

Js  it  fome  mighty  Gea''ral  luho  has  done 

Wonders  in  fight,' and  god  like  honours  nuon  P 

Is  it  feme  man  of  en4hjs  wealth  t'  faid.ks  ;_ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  115 

Nonty  none  ofthefe  ;  nvho  can  thit  AglaiJS  he  ? 

Jlfter  io-ig  fearch^  and  -vaiu  inquiries  pajiy 

Li  an  objure  Arcadidil  'valeat  laji^ 

(  I h'  Arcadian  life  has  always  Jha^y  beer) 

AV.</-Sapho's  tovin,  (-which  he  but  once  had fee^) 

1  his  Ac;! a. IS,  ^ti^ho  Monarcos  en'vy  dreiVj 

IVhoj'e  hapf>inefi  the  gods  Jlood  ivitrefs  tOy 

This  mighty   Agla_S  ilus  Li b'nng  found, 

^rith  his  o-iXn  hands  y  in  his  ovon  little  ground. 

Scy  Gn^cious  God,  (if  it  may  lai^ful  hcy 

Among  tbcje  foolijh  gods  to  meniion  thee) 

^0  let  nil  ady  on  Juch  a  prinjute  JiagEy 

^I he  Lift  dull  fcenes  of  my  declining  age  ; 

Jfier  long  toils  and  'voyages  in  ^vainy 

9  his  quiet  fort  Ut  my  tnfs'd  'vefj'el gain  ; 

Of  heav'r.l^  re/l  this  earnefi  to  me  iend^ 

Lit  my  Ljefleep,  and  learn  to  lo  ve  her  end, 

8FECTAT0R,  Vol.  VIII.    No.    61c. 


ARCADIAN. 

JiJLAVING  conveyed  my  reader  into  the  fairy  or 
jiaftoral  land,  ar-d  informed  him  what  manner  of  life 
the  inhabitants  of  that  region  lead,  I  fliali  in  this  day's  • 
paper  give  him  fomiC  .narks  whereby  he  may  difcover 
whether  he  is  impofed  upon  by  thoie  who  pretend  to 
be  of  that  country  ;  or,  in  other  words,  what  are  the 
chara6leriilics  of  a  true  Arcadian. 

From  tlie  foregoing  account  of  the  paRoral  life,  we 
may  difcover,  that  Gmplicity  is  neceffary  in  the  char- 
adlflir  of  iliepherds.  Their  minds  muft  be  fuppofed 
fo  rude  and  uncultivated,  that  nothing  but  what  is 
plain  and  unaffected  can  come  from  them.  Never- 
thelcis  w-e  are  not  obliged  to  reprelent  them  dull  and 
ftupid,  fince  fine,  fpirits  were  undoubtedly  in  the 
world  before  arts  were  invented  to  polilh  and  adorn, 
them.  We  may  therefore  introduce  them  with  g0(  d 
fenfe,  and  even  with  wit,  provided  their  manner  c  f 
thinking  be  not  too  gallant  or  refined  :  for  all  men, 
b^h  the  rude  sjid  polite,  think  and  conceive  things 


i  1 6  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

the  fame  way,  (truth  being  eternally  the  fame  t©  all) 
though  they  exprefs  them  very  differently.  For  here 
Hes  the  difference:  men  who  by  long  lludy  and  expe- 
rience have  reduced  their  ideas  to  certain  clailes,  and 
confider  the  general  nature  of  things  abRracied  from 
particiilars,  exprefs  their  thoughts  after  a  more  con- 
cife,  lively,  and  furprifmg  manner.  Thofe  who  have  little 
ex'perience,  or  cannot  abRracft,  deliver  their  fenti- 
ments  in  plain  defcriptions,  by  circumftances,  and  thofc 
obfervations  which  either  ftrike  upon  the  fenfes,  or  are 
the  firft  mctions  of  the  mind  ;  and  though  the  for- 
mer raifcs  our  admiration  more,  the  latter  gives  more 
pleafure,  and  fooths  us  more  naturally.  Thtis  a: 
courtly  lover  may  fay  to  his  miflrefs, 

With  thesfcr  ever  I  in  if:oo:is  cculd  reji, 
Where  never  hu7}ian  foci  the  ground  has  preji  :  .. 
1  hcu  e"" en  from  dungeons  darknef  can  exclude y 
And  from  a  defurt  banijh  folitude,  . 

A  (hepherd  will  content   himfelf  to   fay  the  fame-.: 
thing  more  fimply  : 

Ccmey  Rofalind,  Oh  !  ccmeyfor  tviihout  thee 
What  pleafure  can  the  country  have  for  me  P 

Again,  fmce  fliepherds  are  not  allowi-ed  to  make;de€pr' 
jreflecStions,  the  addrefs   required  is  fo  to  relate. an  ac-- 
tion,  that    the   circumftances  put  together   fVjallcaufs.' 
the  reader  tore']e6l.     Thus,  by  one   delicate  circum- 
flance,  Cory  don  telis  AUxis  xki2X  he  is  the  fined  fongile^- 
of  the  country  : 

Of  [even  fmooth  joints  a  mello'VJ  pift  I  ha-ue^ 
Which  vjith  his  aying  breath  Damaetas  gave  ', 
A-^dfuid,  thisy  Corydon,  /  leave  to  thee. 
For  only  thou  defer-vjl  it  afer  me. 

As  in  another  pafloral  writer,  after  the  fame  man-' 
ner,  a  (hepherd  informs   us  how    much  his'  niiErefs'  • 
likes  him  : 

As  I  to  cool  me  bathed  one  fultry  day. 
Fond  Lydia  lurking  in  thefedg^s  lay  ,  , 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  i,y 

^ ke  ix.-amon  laigh't}^  avd  feetndin  hnjie  tofiy^ 
Yet  often Jhpfa^  and  cfen  furn'u  b.r  tye. 
Ifevsr  arefledion  be  p.irdo.iaMe  in  padomls,    it   is 
when  the  thoi  ght  i:.  fo  ouviuus,  that  it  comes  cafily  to 
tliC  mind  ;  as,   m    the  following    admirable  inpiovc- 
ment  of  /'/V^//  and  I htocmui  : 

Fair  is  my  Jio^k,  nor  yet  un^OfKcly  /, 
//  liquid jGunlains  Jiutter  not.      And  ^jy 
^I'.ould  liquid  fountains Ji'iitcr  us^  yei  Jhow 
The  hor-aenn^foixj^rs  up  oeuulicui  than  ihey  grow  ? 
A  iecond  characteriilic  of  a  true    Ihephcni,  is  fnn- 
piicity  of  maimers,  or  innocence.      Tins  is  fo  obvioas 
from  what    I   have  beiure  advanced,  that  it  v^ould  be 
but  repetition  to  inlilt  long  upon  it.     1  ihall  only    re- 
niintl  the  reader,  that  as  the  pailoral  life    is   fuppofcd 
to  be  where  miture    is  not    much   depraved,  lineeri- 
ty  and  truth   will    generally   run   through  it.     Some 
iiight  traidgvcllions  ror  the  fake  oi  variety  may  be  ad- 
muied,  winch  in  efledt  will  only   icrve  to  fet   oil  the 
{impiiclty  ot  it  in  general.     I  cannot   better   iliullrate 
t\iid  rule,  than   by    tiie   following  example  oi  a  iwain 
\\lio  foui:d  his  nniliefs  aileep  : 

Once  Delia  j'/i'/Z,  on  e^Jy  7/iys  recUnd  ; 
iJet  louely  lii/i.s  half  ture^  and  rude  the  xvindy 
1  jmoctlid  her  ccuis^  andjiole  a  fiient  kij<  : 
LcfUiCmn  n,.  jheihtrd^^  if  I  Jia  umijs, 

A  third  iign  of  a  Twain  is,  that  fomething  of  reli- 
gion, and  even  lupcrdition,  is  part  of  his  cnarac^er. 
ror  ^e  find  that  tiiofe  who  have  lived  eafy  lives  in  the 
country,  and  contemplate  the  works  of  nature,  live  in 
the  greateit  awe  of  their  Author.  Nor  doth  Uiis  hu- 
mour prevail  iefs  now  than  of  old  J  our  ^etfants  as 
Imcerely  believe  the  tales  of  goblins  and  fairies,  as  the 
Heathens  thofe  of  fauns,  nymphs,  aud  hityrs.  Hence 
we  find  the  works,  of  I'ir^il  and  l neccruui  fprinkled 
with  left-handed  ravens,  blaited  oaks,  v»  itehcrafts, 
evil  eyes,  and  the  like.  And  i  obieive  with  great 
pleafure  that  our  Engliih    author  of   the  paiiorals  I 


ii8  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

have  quoted  hatli  praftifed  this  fecret  with  admirable 
judgment. 

1  lliall  yet  add  another  mark,  which  may  be  obferV" 
ed  very  often  in  the  above-named  poets,  which  is 
agreeable  to  the  character  of  flvjpherds,  and  alliecT 
nearly  to  fuperftition  •,  I  me.in  the  ufe  of  proverbial 
fayings.  I  take  the  comm.on  (imiiitudes  in  pallorals  to* 
be  of  the  proverbial  order,  which  are  fo  frequent,  that 
it  is  ncedlefs  and  v/ould  be  tirefome  to  quote  thenj.' 
I  fliali  onjy  take  notice  upon  this  head,  thac  it  is  a  nice' 
piece  of  art  to  raife  a  proverb  above  the  vulgar  ftile, 
and  itiii  keep  it  eafy  and  unaiTecled.  Thus  the  old 
wifii  of  God  refx  his  foul  is  finely  turned  : 

Then  ^-?;7//£7  Sidney  livdy  the  fnepherd'i  friend  \ 
Eternal  blejjings  en  his /hade  attend . 

Guardian,  Vol.    I.  No.   23. 


ARCHITECTURE. 

AVING  already  fliewn  hov-/  the  fancy  is  afiecled 

by  the  works  of  nature,  and  afterwards  conildered  in 
general  both  the  works  of  nature  and  of  art,  hovir 
they  mutually  aiTifh  and  complete  each  other,  in  form- 
ing fuch  fcenes  and  profpe<Sls  as  are  moil  apt  to  de- 
light the  mind  of  tlie  beholder,  I  (hall  in  this  paper 
throw  together  feme  refie£i:ions  on  thac  particular  art 
which  has  a  more  immediate  tendency  than  any  other 
to  produce  thofe  primiary  pleafures  of  the  imagination- 
which  have  hitherto  been  the  fubjecl  of  this  difcourfe. 
The  art  I  miCan,  is  that  of  architedlur^,  which  I  fnall 
confuler  only  with  regard  to  the  light  in  which  the 
foregoing  fpeculations  have  placed  it,  \^ithout  entering 
into  thofe  rules  and  maxims  which  tlie  great  mafters 
of  architecture  have  laid  down  and  explained  at  large 
in  numberless  treatifss  upon  that  fubject. 

Greattiefs  in  the  works  of  architecture  may  be  con- 
fidercd  as  relating  to  the  bulk  and  body  of  the  fttuc- 
ttire,  or  to  the  manner  in  M'hich  it  is  built.  As  for 
the  ftrfl,  we  find  the    ancients,   efpecially  among  the. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCEI.LANY.  np 

leaftern  nations  of  the  world,  infinitely  fuperior  to  the 
moderns. 

Not  to  mention  the  tower  of  Bahel,  of  which  an 
old  author  lays,  the  foundations  were  to  be  feen  in  his 
time,  which  looked  like  a  fpacious  mountain  ;  what 
^cou'd  be  more  noble  than  ilie  walls  of  Babylon,  its 
hanging  garders,  and  its  temple  oi  Jupiter  Beius^\\\^t 
Tofe  a  mile  hi;.':h,  by  eight  feveral  ftories,  each  Ilory  a 
furlong  in  hci;.;]it,  and  on  the  top  of  which  was  the 
Babylonian  obftrvatory  ?  I  miglit  here  likewife  take 
i:otice  of  the  huge  rock  that  was  cut  into  the  figure  of 
Semirumis^  with  the  fmallcr  rocks  th:it  lay  by  it  in  the 
(nape  ot  tributivy  kings  ;  the  prodigious  bafon  or  ar- 
tificial like,  vvnich  took  in  the  whole  Euphrates^  till 
fuch  time  as  a  r.cw  canal  was  formed  for  its  reception, 
wilh  the  feveral  trenches  through  which  that  river 
was  conveyed.  I  know  there  are  perfons  who  look 
upon  forne  of  thefe  \vond  :rs  of  art  as  fabulous  -,  but 
I  cannot  find  any  ground  for  fuch  afufpicion,  unlefs  it 
be  that  we  have  no  fuch  works  among  us  at  prefent. 
There  were  indeed  many  greater  advantages  for  buil- 
ding in  thofe  times,  and  in  that  part  of  the  world, 
than  have  been  met  with  ever  fmoe.  The  earth  was 
extremely  fruitful  :  men  lived  generally  on  pallurage, 
which  requires  a  much  fmaller  number  of  riinds  than 
agriculiuVe  :  there  were  few  trades  to  employ  the  bu- 
fy  part  of  mankind,  and  fewer  arts  and  fcienccs  to 
give  Vvo'rk  to  men  of  fpeculative  tempers ;  and  what 
-  is  more  than  all  the  reft,  the  prince  was  abfolute  ;  fo 
that  when  he  went  to  war,  he  put  himfelf  at  the  head 
ofaw^hole  people;  as  we  find  Semiramis  leading  her 
three  millions  to  the  field,  and  yet  overpowered  by 
the  number  of  her  enemies.  It  is  no  wonder,  there- 
fore, when  {lie  was  at  peace,  and  turned  her  whole 
thoughts  on   building,   that  flie  could   accom.plifh   fo 

treat  works  with  fuch  a  prodigious  multitude  of  la- 
ourers  \  befidcs  that  in  her  ciimate  tliere  was  fmall 
interruption  of  frofts  and  winters,  which  make  the 
northern  workmen  lie  half  the  year  idli  ;  I  might 
mention  too  among  the  benefits  of  the  climate,  what 
Inftorians  fay  of  the  earth,  that  it  fweated  out  a  bitu- 


120  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

men  cr  natural  kind  of  mortar,  which  is  doubtlefs  the 
fame  with  that  mentioned  in  holy  writ,  as  contributing 
to  the  {lru£lure  of  Bahd,  Shme  they  ujed  injhad  of  mor- 
i&r. 

\\\  Egypt  we  dill  fee  their  pyramids,  v/hich  anfwer 
to  the  dcfcriptions  that  have  been  made  of  them  \  and 
I  qn;;fi:ion  not  but  a  traveJier  might  hnd  out  fome  re- 
mains of  the  Libyrinth  that  covered  a  v^'hole  province, 
and  had  a  hundred  temples  difpofed  among  its  feveral 
quarters  and  divilions. 

'j1ie  vrail  of  China  is  one  of  thefe  caRern  pieces  of 
magni licence,  which  makes  a  figure  even  in  the  map. 
rf  the  world,  although  an  account  of  it  would  have 
been  thought  fabulous,  were  not  the  wall  itfelf  Hill 
extant. 

We  are  obliged  to  devotion  for  the  n cabled  build- 
lugs  that  have  adorned  the  feveral  countries  of 
world.  It  is  this  that  has  fet  men  to  work  on  tem- 
ples and  public  places  of  worihip,  nt»t  only  that  they 
rr-ight,  by  the  magniriecnce  of  the  building,  invite  the 
De'ty  to'rcfde  within  it,  but  that  fuch  (tupendous  I 
works  might  at  the  fame  time  open  the  mind  to  vail 
conceptions,  and  fit  it  to  converfe  with  the  Diviriry  of 
the  place.  For  every  rliing  that  is  majciticj  imprints 
an  awe  and  reverence  on  tiie  mind  of  the  beholder, 
and  itrikes  it  with  the  natural  greutnefs  of  tiie  foid. 

In  the  fecond  place,  we  are  to  conhder  gr^atnej's  of 
wr.vher'w.  architecture,  which  has  fuch  force  upon  the 
imagination,  that  a  fniall  building,  where  it  appears, 
fliaJi  give  the  mind  nobler  ideas  than  one  of  twen- 
'ty  times  the  bulk,  where  {)\t  manner  is  ordinary  and 
hrtle.  Thus  perhaps  a  nran  would  have  been  more 
afconiihed  with  the  m.ajeRic  air  ^ that  appeared  in  or>e 
of  l\Jif()as's  flatues  of  Alxanu'er^  though  no  bigger 
than  the  life,  than  he  might  have  been  with  mount 
Jtho^  h.ad  it  been  cut  into  the  figure  of  the  hero,  ac- 
cording to  the  propofal  of  /^/^  Vy^/,  with  a  river  in  one 
hand,  and  a  citv  in  tiie  other 

Let  any  one  r^iiec^  on  the  difpofition  of  mind  he 
^nds  in  himfel:^  at  his  firit  entrance  into  the  Pantheoit 
of  Rome  J  tuid  how  the  imagination  is  fiijed  with  fome- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  lai 

thing  great  and  amazing  ;  and,  at  the  fame  time,  con- 
fider  how  httle  in  proportion  he  is  affe£led  with  the 
infide  of  a  Gothic  Cathedral,  though  it  be  five  times 
larger  than  the  other  ;  which  can  arife  from  notliing 
€lfe  but  the  greatnefs  of  the  manner  in  one,  and  the 
meannefs  in  the  other. 

I  have  feen  an  obfervation  upon  this  fubje£t  in  a 
French  author,  which  very  much  pleafed  me  ;  it  is 
Monfieur  treat's  parallel  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
archite£i:ure.  I  {hall  give  it  to  the  reader  with  the  fame 
terms  of  art  he  has  made  ufe  of.  **  I  am  obfcrving 
(fays  he)  a  thing,  which  in  my  opinion,  is  very  curi- 
ous, whence  it  proceeds,  that  in  ti.j  fame  quantity  o£ 
fuperfices,  the  one  manner  feems  great  and  magnifi- 
cent, and  the  other  poor  and  trifling  ;  the  reafon  is 
fine  and  uncommon.  I  fay  then,  that  to  introduce 
into  architecture  this  grandeur  of  manner,  we  ought 
foto  proceed,  that  the  divirion  of  the  principal  mem- 
bers of  the  order  may  confill  of  but  few  parts  ;  that 
they  be  all  great,  and  of  a  bold  and  ample  relievo  and 
fwelling  ;  and  that  the  eye  beholding  nothing  little  or 
mean,  the  imagination  may  be  more  vigoroufly  touch- 
ed and  affected  with  the  work  that  ftands  before  it. 
For  example  ;  In  a  cornice,  if  the  gola  or  the  cynati- 
um  of  the  corona,  the  coping,  the  modilions  or  deh- 
tilli,  make  a  noble  fhew  by  their  giaceful  projeclions. 
if  we  fee  none  of  *hat  ordinary  confufion  which  is  the 
refult  of  thofe  little  cavities,  quarter  rounds  of  the  af- 
tragal,  and  I  know  not  how  many  other  intermingled 
particulars,  which  produce  no  effed^  in  great  and  maf- 
fy  works,  and  which  very  unprofitaoly  take  \ip 
place  to  the  prejudice  of  the  principal  member,  it  is 
moft  certain  that  this  manner  will  appear  folemn  and 
great  ;  as  on  the  contrary,  that  it  will  have  but  a  poor 
and  mean  effe6t,  where  there  is  a  redundancy  of  thofe 
fmaller  ornaments,  which  divide  and  fcatter  the  an- 
gles of  fight  into  fuch  a  multitude  of  rays,  fo  prefled 
together,  that  the  whole  will  appear  but  a  confu- 
fion." 

Among  all  the  figures  in  nrc]ute£lure,  there  arc 
none  that  huve  ^  greater  uir^  "i^an  the  concave  and  the 


-122  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

convex  -,  and  we  find  in  all  the  antient  and  modem 
aichitedture,  as  well  in  the  remote  parts  of  Chtna^ 
as  in  countries  nearer  home,  that  round  pillars  and 
vaulted  roofs  make  a  great  part  of  thofe  buildings 
which  are  defigned  for  pomp  and  magnificence.  The 
reafon  I  take  to  be,  becaufe  in  thofe  figures  we  gene- 
rally fee  more  of  the  body  than  in  thofe  of  other  kinds. 
There  are  indeed  figures  of  bodies,  whei-ein  the  eye 
may  take  in  two  thirds  of  the  furface  ;  but  as  in 
fuch  bodies  the  fight  muft  fpiit  upon  feveral  angles,  it 
does  -not  take  in  one  uniform  idea,  but  feveral  ideas  of 
•the  fame  kind.  Look  upon  the  outfide  of  a  dome, 
your  eye  half  furrounds  it ;  look  up  into  the  in  fide, 
and  at  one  glance  you  have  all  the  profpe^t  of  it. 
'The  entire  concavity  falls  into  your  eye  at  once,  the 
light  being  at  the  centre  that  collects  and  gathers  ifito 
it  the  lines  of  the  whole  circumference.  In  a  fquare 
pillar,  the  fight  often  takes  in  hut  a  fourth  part  of  the 
furface  ;  and  in  a  fquare  concave,  muft -move  up  and 
down  to  the  different  fides, -before  it  is  maiter  of  all 
the  inward  furface.  For  this  reafon  the  fancy  is  in- 
finitely more  fi:ruck  with  the  view  of  the  open  air, 
and  Ikies,  that  pafi^es  through  an  arch,  than  what 
comes  through  a  fquare  or  any  other  figure.  The  figure 
of  a  rainbow  does  not  contribute  lefs  to  its  magnifi- 
cence, than  the  .colour  to  its  beauty,  as  it  is  very  poet- 
ically defer ibed  by  the  fan  of  Sirach  :  Lcok  upon  the  rain- 
honxiy  and  prat  J  e  him  that  made  it  ;  -very  beautiful  it  is  in  its 
brightnefi  ;  /;  encompaj/estheheanjens  ^vcith  a  glorious  circle^ 
and  the  hands  of  the  Mojl  High  ha-ve  herded  it. 

Having  thus  fpoken  of  that  greatncfs  Vv'hich  af- 
;fe6'ts  the  mind  ]r\  architecture,  I  might  next  fhew  the 
pleafure  that  rifes  in  the  imagination  from  what  appcnrs 
new  and  beautiful  in  this  art ;  but  as  every  beholder 
has  naturally  a  greater  tafte  of  thefe  two  perfections 
in  every  building  which  offers  itfelf  to  view,  than  of 
that  which  I  have  hitherto  conCdered,  I  fiiall  not  trou- 
ble my  reader  with  any  reflections  upon  it.  It  is  fuf- 
^ficient  for  my  prefent  purpofe,  to  obferve  that  there  is 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         i^ 

nothing  in  this  whole  art  which  pleafes  the   imagina- 
tion, but  as  it  is  great,  uncommon,  or  beautiful. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VI.  No.  415.  O.- 


A 


ARGUMENTS. 


^VOID  difputes  as  much  as  pofTible,  in  order  to' 

appear  eafy  and  well-bred  in  converlation.  You  may 
aflure  yourfelf  it  requires  more  wit,  as  well  as  more 
good  humour,  to  improve  rather  than  contradict  the 
notions  of  another;  but  if  you  are  at  any  time  ob- 
hged  to  enter  on  an  argument,  give  your  reafons  with 
the  utmoil  coolnefs  and  modeity,  two  things  which 
fcarce  ever  fail  of  making  an  impreflion  upon  the 
hearers.  Befides,  if  you  are  neither  dogmatical,  nor 
Ihovv  cither  by  your  words  or  a£lions  that  you  are 
full  of  yourfelf,  all  will  more  heartily  rejoice  at  your 
viclory  j  nay,  (hould  you  be  pinched  in  your  argu-; 
ment,  you  may  make  your  retreat  with  a  very  good 
grace  :  you  were  never  pofitive,  and  are  now  glad  to 
bs  better  informed.  This  has  made  fome  approve  of 
the  Socracical  way  of  reafoning,  where,  while  you 
fcarce  affirm  anything,  you  can  hardly  be  caught  in  an 
abfurdity,  and  though  poffibly  you  are  endeavouring 
to  bringover  another  to  your  opinion,  which  is  firm- 
ly fixed,  you  feem  only  to  defire  information  from 
him. 

In  order  to  keep  that  temper  which  is  fo  difficult, 
and  yet  fo  neceffary  to  obferve,  you  may  pleafe  to  con- 
fider,  that  nothing  can  be  more  unjuft  or  ridiculous, 
than  to  beeangry  with  anotlier  becaufe  he  is  not  of 
your  opinion.  'The  intereft'^,  education,  and  means 
by  which  men  attain  their  knowledge,  are  fo  very  dif- 
ferent, that  it  is  impoffible  they  fhould  all  think  alike  j 
and  he  has  at  leail  as  much  reaibn  to  be  angry  with 
you,  as  you  with  him.  Sometimes,  to  keep  yourfelf 
cool,  it  may  be  of  fervice  to  alk  yourfelf  fairly,  what 
might  have  been  your  opinion,  had  you  all  the  biaiies 
of  education  or  intereft  your  adverfary  may  polhb^y 
have  I.  But  if  you  contend  for  the  honour  of  vidlory 


3  24  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

alone,  you  may  lay  down  this  as  an  infallible  maxim, 
that  you  cannot  make  a  more  falfe  ftep,  or  give  your 
antagonifts  a  greater  advantage  over  you,  than  by 
ialling  into  a  paflion. 

When  an  argument  is  over,  how  many  weighty 
reafons  does  a  man  recoll€6t,  which  his  heat  and  vio- 
lence made  him  utterly  forget  ! 

It  is  yet  more  ablurd  to  be  angry  with  a  man  be- 
caufe  he  does  not  apprehend  the  force  of  your  reafons, 
or  gives  weak  ones  of  his  own.  If  you  argue  for  re- 
putation, this  makes  your  vi6lory  the  eafier  ;  he  is  cer- 
talrdy,  in  all  refpefrs,  an  object  of  your  pity  rather 
than  anger  ;  and  if  he  cannot  comprehend  what  you 
do,  you  ought  to  thank  nature  for  her  favours,  who 
has  given  you  fo  much  the  clearer  underflanding. 

You  may  pleafe  to  add  this  connderiitlon^  that 
among  your  equals  no  one  values  your  anger,  which 
n-ly  preys  upon  its  mafter  ;  and  perhaps  you  may 
iiiiditnot  very  conGftent  either  with  prudence  or 
your  eafe,  to  punifb  yourfeif  v/henevcr  you  meet  with 
;i  fool  or  a  knave. 

Laflly,  if  you  propofe  to  yourfeif  tlie  true  end  of 
nrgument,  which  is  information,  it  may  be  a  feafona- 
ble  check  to  your  pamon  ;  for  if  ycu  fe arch  purely 
iifter  truth,  it  will  be  ahrioft  indifferent  to  you  where 
you  find  it.  I  cannot  in  this  place  omit  an  obferva- 
tion  which  I  have  often  made,  namely,  tliat  norhing 
procures  a  m.an  more  ePceero  and  lefs  envy  fiom  the 
whole  company,  than  it  he  cboofc^s  the  part  of  mode- 
rator, without  engaging  ifirecily  on  either  fide  in  the 
difpute.  This  gives  him  the  charaftv  r  of  impartial, 
furniihes  him  with  an  opportunity  of  fifiijfg  things 
to  the  bottom,  {hiowing  his  judgment,  and  of  fome- 
times  making  handfome  compliments  to  each  of  the 
Contending  parties. 

I  ihall  clofe  this  fubjeci:  with  giving  you  one  cau- 
tion :  when  you  have  gained  a  victory,  do  not  pufh 
it  too  far  ;  it  is  fufficient  to  let  the  company  and  your 
adverfary  fee  it  is  in  your  power,  but  that  you  are  too 
generous  to  make  ufe  of  it. 

SrccTATOB,  Vol.  III.  No.  197.  X. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  1 25 


ASTRONOMY.  ;"- 

xN  fair  weather,  when  my  heart  Is  cheered,  and  I 
feel  that  exaltation  of  fpirits  which  refults  from  light 
and  warmth,  joined  with  a  beautiful  profpect  of  na- 
ture, I  regard  myfelf  as  one  placed  by  the  hand  of 
God  in  the  .midft  of  an  ample  theatre,  in  which  the 
fun,  moon,  and  ftars,  the  fruits  alfo,  and  vegetables  of 
the  earth,  perpetually  changing  their  pofitions  or  their 
afpe6ls,  exhibit  an  elegant  entertainment  to  th'e  un- 
derllanding  as  well  as  to  the  eye. 

Thunder  and  lightning,  rain  and  hail,  the  painted 
bow,  and  the  glaring  comets,  are  decorations  of  this 
mighty  theatre :  and  the  fable  hemifphere  fludded 
with  fpangles,  the  blue  vault  at  noon,  the  glorious 
gildings  and  rich  colours  in  the  horizon,  I  look  on  as 
fo  many  fucceflive  fcenes. 

When  I  confider  things  in  this  light,  metiiinks  It  is 
a  fort  of  impiety  to  have  no  attention  to  the  courfe 
of  irature,  and  the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 
To  be  regardlefs  of  thofe  phenomena  that  are  placed 
within  our  view,  on  purpofe  to  entertain  our  facul- 
ties, and  difplay  the  wifdom  and  power  of  their  Crea- 
tor, is  an  affront  to  Providence  of  the  fame  kind, 
(I,  hope  It  is  not  Impious  to  make  fuch  a  fimile)  as  it 
would  be  to  a  good  poet,  to  fit  out  his  play  without 
minding  the  plot  or  beauties  of  it. 

And  yet  how  few  are  there  who  attend  to  the  dra- 
ma of  nature,  its  artificial  ftru6lure,  and  thofe  admira- 
ble machines,  whereby  the  paflions  of  a  philofopher 
are  gratefully  agitated,  and  his  foul  affeC-led  with  tiw 
fweet  emotions  of  joy  and  furprife  ! 

How  many  fox-hunters  and  rural  fquires  are  to  be 
found  InGreatBritain,  wly^  are  ignorant  thdt  they  have 
all  tills  while  lived  in  a  planet ;  that  the  fun  is  leveral 
thoufand  times  bigger  than  the  earth  ;  a^id  that  there 
are  feveral  other  worlds  within  our  view,  greater  and 
more  glorious  than  our  own  !  Ay,"but  fays  fome  illite- 
rate fellow,  I  enjoy  the  world,  and  leave  others  to 
J^    2 


126  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

conteHiplate  it.  Yes,  you  eat  and  drink,  and  runabout  ; 
that  is,  you  enjoy  it  as  a  brute  ;  but  to  enjoy  it  as  a  va- 
tionable  being,  is  to  know  it,  to  befenfible  of  its  great- 
nefs  and  beauty,  to  be  delighted  with  its  harmony,  and 
by  thefe  relle6lions  to  obtain  juft  fentiments  of  the 
Ahnighty  Mind  that  framed  it. 

The  man  who,  unembariaiTed  with  vulgar  cares, 
leifurely  attends  to  the  flux  of  things  in  h«aven  and  on 
earth,  and  obfervcs  the  laws  by  fvhich  they  are  gov- 
erned, hath  fecured  to  himfelf  an  eafy  and  convenient 
feat,  where  he  beholds  with  pleafure  all  that  paffes  on 
the  ftage  of  nature  ;  while  thofe  about  him  are,  lome . 
faft  afieep,  and  others  ftruggiing  for  the  higheft  places, 
or  turning  their  eyes  from  the  entertainment  pre- 
pared by  Providence,  to  play  at  pufli-pin  with  one  an- 
other. 

Within  this  ample  circumference  of  the  world,  the 
glorious  lights  that  are  hung  on  high,  the  meteors  m 
the  middle  region,  the  various  livery  of  the  earth,  and 
the  profuiion  of  good  things  that  diftinguifh  the  fca- 
fons,  yield  a  profpecl  v^-hich  annihilates  all  human 
grandeur. 

GuARDiANj  Vol.  U.  No.  169, 


ATIIEISIvL 


A 


THEISM,  by  which  T  mean  a  difbelief  of  a  Su^ 
preme  Being,  ^nd  confequently  of  a  future  itate,  un- 
der whatfoever  titles  it  flielters  itfelf,  may  liktwife 
very  /eafonably  deprive  a  man  of  his  cheerfulnefs  of 
temper.  There  is  fo'-nething  fo  particularly  gloomy 
and  offeniive  to  kuman  nature  in  the  profpe^t  of  non- 
cxiflence,  that  I  cannot  but  wonder  with  many  ex- 
cellent writers,  how  it  is  poH^J  le  for  a  man  to  outlive 
the  expeftation  of  it.  For  my  part  I  think  the  being 
of  a  God  is  fo  little  to  be  doubted,  that  it  is  almofl: 
the  only  truth  we  arc  fure  of,  and  fuch  a  truth  as  we 
meet  with  in  every  object,  in  every  occurrence  and 
cv.ery  thought.  !£  we  look  into  tke  char a^Stcrs  of  this  tribe- 


ADDSONIAN  MISCELLANY.  127 

of  infidels,  we  generally  find  they  are  made  up  of 
pride,  fpleen,  and  cavil.  It  is  indeed  no  wonder,  tfi at 
men  wlio  are  uneafy  to  themfelves,  fliould  be  fo  to  the 
reft  of  the  world  ;  and  ho'A'  is  it  poITible  for  a  man  to 
be  othei  wife  than  uneafy  in  himfelf,  who  is  in  danger 
every  moment  of  loofing  his  entire  exiflence,  and  drop- 
ping into  nothing  ? 
,  Spectator,  Vol.  V.  No.  381.  L 

There  are  two  confiderations  which  have  been  of- 
ten urged  ngainfl  Atheills,  and  which  they  never  yet 
could  get  over,  'i'he  firft  is,  that  the  greatefl  and 
moil  eminent  pevfons  of  all  ages  have  been  againfl 
them,  and  always  complied  with  the  public  forms  of 
worlhip  cllabliilied  in  their  particular  countries,  when 
there  Vv^as  nothing  in  them  either  derogatory  to  the 
honour  of  the  Supreme  Being,  or  prejudicial  to  the 
good  of  mankind. 

The  Plates  and  Cicero.;  amcing  the  ancients,  the  Ba- 
cons,  the  Bojlesy  and  the  Lock^s  a^nongour  countrymen, 
are  all  inftances  of  what  I  hai^e  been  faying  ;  not  to 
mention  any  of  the  Divines,  however  celebrated, 
fmce  our  atlverfaries  challenge  all  thofe,  as  men  wlio 
have  too  much  intereft  in  this  cafe  to  be  impartial  ev- 
idences. 

But  what  has  been  offered  as  a  confuleration  of 
much  more  weight,  is,  not  only  the  opinion  of  the 
better  fort,  but  the  general  confent  of  mankind  to 
this  great  truth  \  which  I  think  could  not  poihbly 
have  come  to  pafs,  but  from  one  of  the  three  follow- 
ing reafons  ;  either  that  the  idsa  of  a  God  is  innate 
and  co-exiflcnt  with  the  mind  itfelf  j  or  that  this 
truth  is  fo  very  obvious,  that  it  is  difcovered  by  the 
firil  exertion  of  reafon  in  perfons  of  the  moft  ordi- 
nary capacities;  or  laftly,  that  it  has  been  delivered 
down  to  us  through  all  ages  by  a  tradition  from  the 
firft  man. 

The  Atheifts  are  equally  confounded,  to  which  ev- 
er 01  thefe  tliree  caufes  we  afTign  it  •,  they  have  been 
fo  prefTed  by  this  lafl  argument  from  the  general  con- 
lent  of  mankind,  that  after  great  fctuxh  and  pain  they 


1 28  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

pretend   to  have  found  out  a  Nation  of  Atheifts  ;  I 
mean  that  polite  people  the  Hotteruots. 

Idare  not  fliock  my  readers  with  a  defcription  of  ^ 
the  cuftoms  and  manners  of  thefe  barbarians,  wha 
are  in  every  refpe6t-  fcarce  one  degree  above  brutes, 
having  no  language  among  them  but  a  confufed  |-a^- 
ble,  which  is  neither  well  underftood  by  themfelves  or 
others. 

It  is  not  however  to  be  imagined  how  much  the 
A'heills  have  gloried  in  thefe  their  good  Friends 
and  Allies. 

If  we  boafl  of  a  Socrates  or  a  Seneca^  they  may  now 
confront  them  with  thefe  great  Phibfophers  the  Hot-^ 
tentots. 

Though  even  this  point  has,  net  without  reafon, 
been  feveral  times  controverted,  1  fee  no  manner  of 
harm  it  could  do  religion,  if  we  fliould  entirely  give 
them  up  this  elegant  part  of  mankind. 

Methinks  nothing  more  ii^ows  the  weaknefs  of  their 
caufe,  than  that  no  divifion  of  their  fellow-creatures 
joins  with  them,  but  thofe  among  whom  they  them- 
felves own  reafon  is  aimed  defaced,  and  who  have 
little  elfe  but  their  fliape,  which  can  entitle  theni  to 
any  place  in  the  noecies. 

Befides  thefe  poor  creatures  there  have  now  and  then 
been  inftances  of  a  few  crazed  people  in  feveral  na- 
tions, who  have  denied  theexiftence  of  a  Deity, 

The  catalogue  of  thefe  is  however  very  ihort  :  Even 
Vanini^  the  moft  celebrated  champion  for  the  caufe^ 
profelTed  before  his  judges,  that  he  believed  the  exif- 
tance  of  a  God  ;  and  taking  a  fkraw,  v/hich  lay  be- 
fore him  on  the  ground,  aiTured  tliem  that  alone  was 
fuihcient  to  convince  Iiim  of  it  ;  alledging  feveral  ar- 
gumenteto  prove  that  it  was  impoffible  nature  alone- 
could  create  any  thing. 

I  was  the  other  day  reading  an  account  of  Cafimir 
Lifxyv/ki^  a  gentlemian  of  Poland^  who  was  convicted 
and  executed  for  this  crime.  The  manner  of  his  pun- 
ifliment  was  very  particular  :  As  foon  as  his  body  was 
burnt,  his  afbes  were  put  into  a  cannon,  an_d  fliot  into  . 
the  air  towa'-ds  Tartar;^. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  129 

I  am  apt  to  believe,  that  if  fomething  like  this 
method  of  punifliment  Ihould  prevail  in  E/igiu/iUy^uch 
is  the  natural  good  fcnfe  of  the  Britijh  nation,  that 
whether  we  rammed  an  athelft  whole  into  a  great 
gun,  or  pulverifed  our  infidels,  as  they  do  in  Poland^ 
M^e  ffiould  not  have  many  charges. 

I  fhould  howtvcr  propofe,  while  our  ammunitioa 
lafted,  that  inltcad  of  fartary,  we  fhould  always  keep 
two  or  three  cannons  ready  pointed  towards  the  Cape 
of  Good-Ho^e^  in  order  to  Ihoot  our  unbelievers  into 
the  country  cf  the  Hotientots. 

In  my  opinion,  a  folemn  judicial  death  is  too  great 
an  honour  for  an  atheill ;  though  I  mull  allow,  the 
method  of  exploding  him,  as  it  is  practiced  in  this  lu- 
dicrous kind  of  martyrdom,  has  fomething  in  it  proper 
enough  to  the  nature  of  his  offence. 

There  is  indeed  a  great  objedlion  agalnft  this  man- 
ner of  treating  them.  Ztal  for  religion  is  of  fo  ac- 
tive a  nature,  that  it  feldom  knows  where  to  reft  \  for 
which  reafon  I  am  afraid,  after  having  difcharged  our 
atheiib,  we  might  poihbly  think  of  ihooting  off  our 
fedaries  ;  and  as  one  does  not  forefee  the  viclffitudes 
ol  human  affairs,  it  might  one  time  or  other  come  to 
a  man's  own  turn  to  fly  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  Demi- 
■culverin. 

If  any  of  my  readers  imagine  that  I  have  treated 
thtfe  gentlemen  in  too  ludicrous  a  manner,  I  muft 
confefs  for  my  own  part,  I  think  reafoning  agalnft 
fuch  unbelievers  upon  a  point  that  ihocks  the  com  • 
mon  fenfe  of  mankind,  is  doing  them  too  great  an 
honour,  giving  them  a  figure  in  the  eye  of  the  world, 
and  making  people  fancy  that  they  have  more  in  them 
than  th:?y  really  have. 

As  for  thofc  perfons  who  have  any  fcheme  of  re- 
ligious worfliip,  I  am  for  treating  fuch  with  the  ut- 
moft  tendcvnefs,  and  ftiould  endeavour  to  fhow  them 
their  error  with  the  greateft  temper  and  humanity  ; 
but  as  thefe  mifcreant's  are  for  throwing  down  religion 
in  general,  for  ftripping  mankind  of  what  themfelves 
own  is  of  excellent  ufc  in  all  great  focieties,  without 
once  offering  to  cftabiiili  any  thing  in  the  room  of  it, 


ijo  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

I  think  the  befl:  way  of  dealing  with  them,  is  to  region 
their  own  weapons  upon  them,  which  are  chofe  of: 
fcorn  and  mockery. 

Spectator.,  Vol.  V.  No.  389.  X«. 

After  having  treated  of  thefe  falfe  zealots  in  reli- 
gion, I  cannot  forbear  mentioning  a  monftrous  fpecies 
of  men,  who  one  would  not  think  had  any  existence 
in  nature,  were  they  not  to  be  met  With  in  ordinary 
converfation ;  I  mean  the  zealots  in  athcifm.  One 
would  fancy  that  thefe  men,  though  they  fall  fliort  in 
every  other  refpecl  of  rhofe  who  rnake  a  profelnon  of 
religion,  would  at  ieaft  outffiine  them  in  this  particu- 
lar, and  be  exempt  from  that  fmgle  fault  which  feems 
to  grow  out  of  the  imprudent  fervors  of  religion. 
But  fo  it  is,  that  infidelity  is  propagated  with  as  much 
feercenefs  and  contention,  wrath  and  indignation,  as 
if  the  fafety  of  mankind  depended  upon  it.  There 
is  fomething  fo  ridiculous  and  perverfe  in  this  kind, 
of  zealots,  that  one  does  not  know  how  to  fet  them 
out  in  their  proper  colours.  They  are  a  fort  of 
gamefters  who  are  eternally  upon  the  fret-,  though 
they  play  for  nothing,  they  are  perpetually  teaHng 
their  friends  to  come  over  to  them,  though  at  the 
fame  time  they  allow  that  neither  of  them  (hall  get 
any  thing  by  the  bargain.  In  ihort,  the  zeal  of 
fpreading  atheifm  is,  if  poflible,  more  abfurd  than 
atheifm  itfelf. 

Since  I  have  mentioned  this  unaccountable  zeal, 
which  appears  in  atheiils  and  inHdels,  I  mufl:  farther 
obferve,  that  they  are  likewifs  in  a  m.oll  particular 
manner  poile fled  with  the  fpirit  of  bigotry.  They 
are  wedded  to  opinions  full  of  contradiction  and  im-. 
pollibility,  and  at  the  fame  time  look  upon  the  fmall- 
eft  difficulty  in  an  article  of  faith  as  a  fufficient  rea« 
fon  for  rejecSling  it.  Notions  that  fall  in  v  ith  the 
common  reafon  of  mankind,  that  are  conformable  to 
the  fenfe  of  all  ages  and  nations,  not  to  mention  their 
tendency  for  promoting  the  happinefs  of  focietics  or 
of  particular  perfons  are  exploded  as  errors  rrid  preju- 
dices,; aixd  fchemes  erected  in  their  ilead,  that  areaW 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


^3* 


together  monftrous  and  Irrational,  and  require  the 
moft  extravagant  credulity  to  embrace  them.  I 
would  fain  aik  one  of  thofe  bigoted  infidels,  fcppofing 
'all  the  great  points  of  atheifm,  as  the  cafual  or  eter- 
nal formation  of  the  world,  the  materiality  of  a  think- 
ing fubftance,  the  mortality  of  the  foul,  the  fortuitous 
•  organization  of  the  body,  the  motion  and  gravity  of 
■  matter,  with  the  like  particulars,  were  laid  together, 
and  formed  a  kind  of  creed,  according  to  the  opin- 
ions of  the  mofh  celebrated  atheiils  ;  I  fay,  fuppofe 
■fuch  a  creed  was  formed  and  impofed  upon  any  one 
people  in  the  world,  whether  it  would  not  require 
an  infinitely  greater  meafure  of  faith  than  any  fet  of 
articles  which  they  fo  violently  oppofe  ?  Let  me  there- 
fore advife  this  generation  of  wranglers,  for  their  own, 
and  for  the  public  good,  to  aft  at  Icalt  fo  confidently 
with  themfelvcs,  ds  not  to  burn  with  zcai  f«r  rehgion, 
and  with  bigotry  for  nonfenfe. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IIL  No.  185.  C. 


AUTHORS. 


Y 


PON  the  hearing  of  feveral  late  dlfputes  con- 
j'Ceraing  rank  and  precedence,  I  could  not  forbear 
amufing  myfelf  with  forne  obfervations  which  I  have 
■'«nade  upon  the  learned  world,  as  to  this  gTer.t  partic- 
r^tiJar.  By  the  learned  world,  I  here  .meai^,  at  large 
all  thofe  who  are  any  way  concerned  in  works  of  lite- 
rature, whether  in  the  writing,  printing,  or  the  re- 
pciUing  part.  To  begin  v/ith  the  writers,  I  have  ob- 
ferve<l  that  the  author  of  a  Folio,  in  all  companies  and 
conveifations,  fets  himfclf  above  -Aklitarto  ;  the  author 
of  a  t^arto  above  the  author  of  an  O^lwvoy  and  fo  on, 
by  a  gradual  defcent  and  fubordination,  to  an  author 
in  T^L'jenty-fours.  This  dillinftion  is  fo  well  obferved, 
that  in  an  aiTcmbly  of  the  learned,  I  have  feen  a  Folio 
writer  pbce  himfelf  in  an  elbow-chair,  when  the  au- 
^thor  of  a  Duodecimo  has,  out  of  a  juft  deference  to  his 
fuperior  quaUty,  feated  loimfelf  upon  a  fquab.     In  a 


132  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ^ 

word,  autiiOrs  are  ufually  ranged  in  company  after  tli^, 
fame  manner  as  their  works  are  upon  a  (lielF. 

The  mod  minute  pocket-author,  has  beneath  him 
the  writers  of  all  pamphlets,  or  works  that  are  only 
ititched.  As  for  the  Pamphleteer,  he  takes  place  of 
none  but  of  the  authors  of  fnigle  flieets,  and  of  that 
fraternity  who  publilh  their  labours  on  certain  days> 
or  on  every  day  of  the  week.  I  do  not  find  that  the 
precedency  among  the  individuals  in  this  latter  clafs 
of  writers  is  yet  fettled. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  had  fo  ftrifl  a  regard  to 
the  ceremonial  which  prevails  in  the  learned  world, 
that  I  never  prefumed  to  take  place  of  a  Pamphleteer, 
till  my  daily  papers  were  gathered  into  thofe  two  firft  \ 


volumes  which  have   already   appeared;  after  which.| 
I  naturally   jumped    over  the  heads,   not  only  of   allfj 
Pamphleteers,   but   of   every  Oda^o  writer  in   Greut- 
Britain  that  had  written  but  one  book.     I. am  alfo  in-'j 
form.ed  by  m.y  bookfeller,  that  fix   Oda'vos  have  been  % 
always  looked    upon    as    an    equivalent    to  a  Folioy 
which  I  take  notice  of  the  rather,  becaufe  I  would 
not  have  the  learned  world  furprifed,  if  after  the  pub-. 
Ijcation  of   half  a  dozen  volum.es  i  take  my  place  ac- 
cordingly.     When  my  fcattered  forces  are   thus  rai- 
iied,  and  reduced  into   regular  bodies,    I  flatter  my- 
fclf  that  I  fhall  make  no  defpicable  figure  at  the  head 
of  them. 

Whether  thcfe  rules,  which  have  been  received  time 
out  of  mind  in  the  commonwealth  of  letters,  were  not 
originally  eilabiiflied  with  an  eye  to  our  paper  manu- 
fa-^ure,  I  ihall  leave  it  to  the  difcuiTion  of  others,  and 
fliall  oi:]y  remark  farther  in  this  place,  that  all  print- 
ers and  bookfellers  take  the  wall  of  one  another,  ac-  \ 
cording  to  the  above-mentioned  merits  of  the  authors  .'j 
to  whom  they  refpe6l.ively  belong.  \ 

1  come  now  to   that  point  of  precedency  which  is   ^ 
fettled   among  the  three    learned  profelfions,    by  the 
vvifdom  of   our  laws.     I  need  not  here  take  notice  of  < 
the  rank  which  is  allotted  to  every  Doctor  in  each  of   \ 
thefe  profelfions,  who   are  all  of  them,  though  not  fo 
high  as  Jtinights,  yet  a  degree  abeve  \Squiro>  •,  this 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  13. 

'Ip.a  order  of  men  being  the  illiterate  body  of  the  na- 
tion, are  confequently  thrown  together  in  a  clafs  be- 
low the  three  learned  profeilions.  I  mention  this 
for  the  fake  of  feveral  rural  'Squires,  whofe  reading 
does  not  rife  fo  high  as  to  th^  pnfem  Jlate  of  Eng- 
land, and  who  are  often  apt  to  ufurp  that  preceden- 
cy which  by  the  laws  of  the  country  is  not  due  to 
them.  Their  want  of  learning  which  has  planted 
them  in  this  fituation,  may  in  fome  meafure  extenu- 
ate their  mifdemeanor  \  and  our  profeiTors  ought  to 
pardon  them  when  they  oflend  in  this  particular,  con- 
lidering  that  they  are  in  a  Itate  of  ignorance,  or,  as 
we  ufually  fay,  do  not  know  their  right  hand  from, 
their  left. 

There  is  another  tribe  of  perfons,  who  are  retainers 
to  the  learned  world,  and  who  regulate  themfelves 
on  all  occafions  by  feveral  laws  peculiar  to  their 
body  \  I  mean  the  actors  or  players  of  both  fexes  : 
Among  thefe  it  is  a  ftanding  and  uncontroverted 
principle,  that  a  tragedian  always  takes  place  of  st 
comedian  ;  and  it  is  very  well  known,  the  merry  drolls 
who  make  us  laugh,  are  always  placed  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  table,  and  in  every  entertainment  give  v»-ay 
to  the  dignity  of  the  bulkin.  It  is  a  ftnge  maxim. 
Once  a  King  and  alnjoays  a  King.  For  this  reafon,  it 
would  be  thought  very  abfurd  in  Mr.  B-uJhck,  notwith- 
ftandingthe  height  and  gracefulnefs  of  his  peifon,  t© 
fit  at  the  right  hand  of  an  ~  hero,  though  he  were  but 
five  feet  high.  The  fame  diftincLicn  is  obf^rved 
among  the  ladies  of  the  theatre  :  Queens  ar.d  Hero- 
ines prelerve  their  rank  in  private  converfation  ; 
while  thofe  who  are  waiting  women  and  maids  of 
honour  upon  the  flage,  keep  their  diiiance  alfo  behind 
the  fcenes:  ■ 

I  fhali  only  add,  that  by  n  parity  of  reafon,  all  wri- 
ters of  tragedy  look  upon  it  to  be  their  due  to  be  feat- 
edor  fainted  tefore  comic  writers.  Thofe  who  deal 
in  tragi-comedy,  ufually  take  their  feats  between  the 
authors  of  either  fide.  There  has  been  a  long  difpute 
for  precedency  between  the  tragic  and  heroic  poets. 
Arijlotk  would  have  the  latter  yield  the  Fai  to  the  for- 
M 


134  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

mer  ;  but  Mr.  Dryden  and  many  others  would  never 
fubmit  to  this  decifion.  Burkfque  writers  pay  the 
fame  deference  to  the  heroic,  as  comic-writers  do  to 
their  ferious  brothers  in  the  drama. 

B/  this  fhort  table  of  laws,  order  is  kept  up, 
and  diitin6lion  preferved  in  the  whole  republic  of 
letters. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VII.  No.  529.  O* 


'F  all  the  precautions  with  which  you  have  In- 
ftru61:ed  the  w^orld,  I  like  that  beft  which  is  upon  stat- 
ural and  fantafikal  pleafure,  becaufe  it  falls  in  very 
much  v/ith  my  own  way  of  thinking.  As  you  re- 
ceive real  delifrnt  from  what  creates  only  imaginary 
fatisfaction  in  others,  fo  do  I  raife.to  myfelf  all  the 
conveniences  of  life,  by  amufnig  the  fancy  of  the 
world.  I  am,  in  a  word,  a  member  of  that  numer- 
ous tribe  who  write  for  their  daily  bread.  I  Hourifli 
in  a  dearth  of  foreign  news  *,  and  though  I  do  not 
pretend  to  the  fpleen,  I  am  never  fo  well  as  in  the  time 
of  a  w^efterly  wind.  When  it  blows  from  that  aufpi- 
cicus  point,  I  raife  to  myfelf  contributions  from  the 
Britip  IJlcy  by  affrighting  my  fuperftitious  countrymen 
with  printed  accounts  of  murders,  fpiriio,  prodigies, 
or  monfters,  according  as  my  neceffities  fuggeft  to  me  : 
i  hereby  provide  for  my  beine.  The  laft  fummer  I 
paid  a  ia.rge  debt  for  brandy  and  tobacco,  by  a  won- 
derful defcrlption  of  a  fitry  dvaj^on,  and  lived  ten  days 
together  upon  a  whale  and  a  mermaid.  When  winter 
comes  on^  I  generally  pluck  up  my  fpirits,  and  have  my 
apparitions  ready  againft  long  dark  evenings.  From 
No'vemher  laft  till  Januan^  I  lived  entirely  upon  mur- 
ders, and  have  iince  that  time  had  a  comfortable  fub- 
(iftence  from  a  plague  and  a  famine.  I  made  the 
Pope  pay  for  my  beef  and  nautton  laft  lent,  out  of  pure 
(jpite  to  tr.e.  Romijh  religion  j  and  at  prefent  my  good 
friend  the  king  of  S^weden  finds  me  in  clean  linen,  and 
the  Mufti  gets  ^le  credit  at  the  tavern. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  13^ 

The  aftonifhing  accounts  that  I  record,  I  ufually 
enliven  with  wooden  cuts  and  the  like  paltry  cmbel- 
lilhments.  They  adminifler  to  the  curiofity  of  my 
fellow-fubjeds,  and  not  only  advance  religion  and 
virtue,  but  take  reftlefs  fpirits  off  from  meddling  with 
the  public  affairs,  I  therefore  cannot  think  myfelf  air 
uielefs  burden  upon  earth  ;  and  that  I  may  ftill  do 
more  in  my  generation,  I  fliall  give  the  world  in  an 
(liort  time  an  hiltory  of  my  life,  (hidies,  maxims,  and 
atchievements,  provided  my  bookfeller  advances  a 
round  fum  for  my  copy. 

I  am,  8cc. 

Gl'ARDian,  Vol.  I.  No.  58. 


AVARICE. 

i-VilOST  of  the  trades,  profeflions,  and  ways  of  liv- 
ing among  mankind,  take  their  origin  either  from 
the  love  of  pleafure  or  the  fear  of  want.  The  former, 
when  it  becomes  too  violent,  degenerates  into  Luxurj^ 
and  the  latter  into  A'varice.  As  thefe  two  principles 
of  a£lion  draw  different  ways,  Perjius  has  given  us  a 
very  humorous  rxcount  of  a  young  fellow  who  v/as 
routed  out  of  his  bed,  in  order  to  be  fent  upon  a  long 
voyage,  by  Avarice,  and  afterwards  over-perfuaded  and 
kept  at  home  by  Luxur;.  I  fliall  fit  down  at  length 
the  pleadings  of  thefe  two  imaginary  perfor.Sj  as  they 
are  in  Mr.  Drydeni>  tranilation. 

Wherher  alone^  or  in  the  harhfs  lapy 
When  thcu  <v:ouldyi  take  a  la%y  morninp  nap, 
Upi  up,  f2ys  i^.VARlCE  :  thou  f nor  Jl\ain, 
Streichejl  thy  liitibs^  and  jauutiji,  but  ull  in  'vaitty 
^J'he  rugz^ed  Tyrant  no  denial  takes  ; 
Al  his  commav.d  tlie  univilling  fiicigard  ivakes. 
V/kat  niujl  I  do  P  He  cries.      wi:at  ?  ^ays  his  lord  ; 
Why  rife,  make  ready ^  and  go  Jiraight  aboard  ', 
With  JiJh^frD!nY.U\\nz  feaSy  ihy  <vejjel  freight  ; 
Fla^y  cafcr^  Coan  uinss^  ibt  '^reQioui  ^Mcight 


] 


J 36  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

Of  pept>cr,  a-'-.d  Sabcail  ineenfey  take, 

14'ilh  thy  OTvn  hands y  from  the  tirdcatneVs  bach, 

And  ^ith  pft-hufie  thy  running  markets  make 

Be  fur e  to  turn  the  penny  ;  lie  and  fhjenr^ 

^Tis  n.vholefome  fin  :   But  Jove,  t/.wu  fq-/ff,  tvi/I  hear^  « 

S^xern-y  fool^  or  fla-x  e  ;  for  the  dilemmas  even. 

A  tradejrruin  thou^  and  hope  to  go  to  Hea^ven  ! 

Rfolvd  for  fea^  the jla-ves  thy  baggage  pack. 

Each  fuddled  ivith  his  burden  on  his  backy 

Nothing  retards  thy  'voyage  noxv,  but  He, 

"That  foft  ^oolupluous  Prince  caWd  LuxURY. 

ylnd  he  may  ajk  this  civil  quepion  :    Friend, 

IVhat  doft  thou  make  a  fJiip-hoard?   'I o  Hx;hat  end  s' 

Art  thou  of  Bethlem'j  ndle  College  free, 

Stark  flareing  mad,  that  ihou  ^^vouldyi  tempt  the  fea  ? 

Cuhh\{  in  a  cabin,  on  a  maitrafs  laid.  ; 

On  a  hi-onxjn  Gcorge,  nvith  loufv  faxjahber'' s,  fed  , 

Dead  luine,  that  fir.ks  of  the  YiQX2i<:\\\0,fup 

From  a  foul  jack,  or  greafy  maple  cup  : 

Say^  njooukffi  thou  bear  all  this,  to  raife  thy  flora 

From  fix  t   tli*  hundred  to  fix  hundred  mere? 

Indulge,  and  to  thy  genius  fcely  gi've  ; 

For,  not  to  live  at  eafe,  is  net  to  live, 

Death  ftalks  behind  thee,  and  each  flyi-^g  hour 

Does  fome  loofe  remnant  cf  iky  Ife  de-vour. 

Live,  ^jchilli  thou  li-vfi;  for  death  "jcill  make  us  all 

A  name,  a  ncthin^,  but  an  eld  Kvife''s  tale. 

K^peak  ;  w///  thou  Avarice  or  Pieafure  choofe 

V  c  be  thy  Lord  ?   Take  one,  and  one  refufc. 

When  a  government  flouridies  in  conquefts,  and  is 
iecure  from  foreign  attacks,  it  naturally  falls  into  all 
xV-^^  pleafures  of  Iwxury  •,  and  as  thofe  pleauires  are  -^ 
very  expenllye,  they  put  thofe  who  are  addicted  to  ^■ 
ilicm  upon  railing  frefli  fuppiics'of  money,  by  all  the  | 
methods  of  rapacioufnefs  and  corruption  \  fo  that  av-  ' 
arice  and  h.\xury  often  become  one  complicated  prin-  \ 
ciple  of  action,  in  thofe  whofe  hearts  are  v.'holly  fct  ]; 
upon  eafe,  magnificence,  and  pleafure.  The  moll  el-  i 
egant  and  correal:  of  all  the /.^-///i  hillorlans,  obferves,  ■ 
rhat  in  his  time,  when  the  mod  formidable  States  in  : 
ihe  world  M'crc  fubdued  by  the  Romans,  the  Republic  J 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         137 

funk  into  thofe  two  vices  of  a  quite  dlficrent  nature. 
Luxury  and  Avarice  ;  and  accordingly  defcribes  Catiline 
as  one  who  coveted  the  wealth  of  ocher  men,  at  the 
fame  time  thnt  he  fquanJ?red  away  his  own.  This 
obfervation  o\\  the  Commonwealth,  v/hen  it  was  in  the 
height  of  pcv/cr  and  riches,  holds  good  in  ail  govern- 
ments that  are  lettled  in  a  ilate  of  •:afe  and  profperity^ 
At  fuch  times  men  r.-tluraily  endeavour  to  outfliine 
one  another  in  pomp  and  fplendour  ;  and  having  no 
fears  to  alarm  them  from  abroad,  indulge  themfelves 
in  the  enjoymcjit  of  all  they  can  get  in  their  pofleflTion  ; 
which  naturally  produces  avarice,  and  an  immoderate 
purfuit  after  wealth  and  riches,  . 

As  I  was  humouring  myfclf  in  the  fpeculation  of 
thefe  two  great  principles  of  a6tion,  I  could  not  for- 
bear throwing  my  thoughts  into  a  little  kind  of  allego- 
ry or  fable,  with  which  I  Ihall  here  prefent  my  reader. 

There  were  two  very  povv-erful  tyrants  en.gngcd  in  a 
perpetual  war  againft  each  other  :  the .  name  of  the 
firll  was  Luxury,  and  of  the  fecond  Avarice.  The  aim 
of  each  of  them  was  no  lefs  than  univerfal  monarchy 
over  the  hearts  of  mankind.  Luxury  had  many  Gene- 
rals under  him,  who  did  him  great  fervice,  as  Pkafure^ 
Mirth^  Pompy  and  Fajhion,  Avarice  was  likewife  very 
fti ong  in  his  officers,  being  faithfully  fcrved  by  Hun- 
gery  indufiry^  Care,  and  Watchfulmfs.  He  had  likewife  a 
privy  counfellor,  who  Vvas  always  at  his  elbow,  and 
whifperlng  fomething  or  other  in  his  ear  :  The  name 
of  this  privy  counfellor  was  Po'verfy.  As  Avarice  con- 
dueled  himfelf  by  the  eounfels  of  PoTeriy,  his  antago- 
niil  was  entirely  guided  by  the  dilates  and  advice  of 
Plenty,  who  was  his  6ril  counfellor  and  miniller  of 
(late,  that  concerted  ail  his  meafures  v/ith  him,  and 
never  departed  out  of  his  fight.  While  thofe  two 
great  rivals  were  thus  contending  for  empire,  their 
conquefts  were  various  :  Luxury  got  polleflion  of  one 
heart,  and  Avarice  of  another.  The  father  of  a  family 
would  often  range  himfelf  under  the  banners  of  Ava^ 
rice,  and  the;  fon  under  thofe  of  Luxury.  The  wife  and 
hufband  would  often  declare  themfelves  of  the  two 
diUcrent  partivS  ;  Nay,  the  fame  perfoa  Y/Ould  'i^Ty 
Ma- 


133  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

often  fide  with  one  in  his  youth,  and  revolt  to  the  oth- 
er in  his  old  age.  Indeed  the  wife  men  of  the  world 
flood  neuter  ;  but  alas  !  their  numbers  were  inconf.d- 
erable.  At  length,  when  ihefe  two  potentates  had 
wearied  themfelves  of  waging  war  upon  one  another, 
they  agreed  upon  an  interview,  at  which  neither  of' 
their  counfellors  were  to  be  prefent.  It  isfaid.that 
Luxury  began  the  parley,  and  after  having  reprefented 
iIk:  (late  of  war  in  which  theyiwere  engaged,  t©ld  his 
enemy  with  a  franknefs  of  heart  which  is  natural  to 
him,  that  he  believed  they  fhould  be  very  good  friends, 
were  it  not  for  the  in  (ligation  of  Poverty ,  tliat  perni- 
cious counfcllor,  who  made  an  ill  ufe  of  his  car,  and 
iiiled  him  with  grouiuilefs  apprehenfions  and  jealouf- 
ies.  To  this,  A--varice  replied,  that  he  looked  upon 
'Plenty  the  hrft  miiiilter  of  his  antagoniil,  to  be  a  much 
more  deftru^live  counfellor  than  Poverty  ;  for  that  he 
was  perpetually  fuggciting  pleafure,  baniihing  all  the 
^leceiiary  cautions  againft  want,  and  coniequently  un»- 
dermining  tliofe  principles  on  which  the  government 
o(  Jlvarice  was  founded.  At  laft  in  order  to  an  accom- 
modation they  agreed  upon  this  preliminary  :  That 
each  of  them  mcuid  immediately  difmifshis  privy  coun- 
lellor.  V\^hen  things  were  thus  far  adjulted  towards 
a  peace,  all  other  differences  were  foon  accommodated, 
infomuch  that  for  the  future  they  refolved  to  live  as 
good  friends  and  confederates,  and  to  Ihare  betVv-eea 
them  whatever  conquefts  were  made  on  either  fide. 
Tor  this  reafon,  w^e  nov/  ^ni^ Luxury  -and  A-uarke  taking 
poiTeirion  of  the  fame  heart,  and  dividing  the  fame 
perfon  between  them.  To  which  I  Avail  only  add, 
that  fince  difcarding  the  counfellors  above  men- 
tioned, Avarice  fupplies  Luxury  in  the  room  of  Plenty, 
as  Luxury  ^Tom^t^  Avarice  in  the  place  of  Poverty. 

Spectator,  Vol.  I.  No.  ^^.  C. 


BACON  (Sir  Francis.) 

V_^NE  of  the  moft  extenfive  and  improved  geniufes 
wc  have  had  anv  inft^n^e  of  iis  our  o\yi\  natjon,  or  in 


ADDSONIAN  MISCELLANY,  139 

any  other,  was  thnt  of  Sir  Frarcis  Bacon  Lord  Verulam» 
'1  his  great  man  by  an  extraordinary  force  of  nature, 
compais  of  thougiit,  and  indefatigable  ftudy,  aniafied 
to  hirnfcli  fuch  ihores  of  knowledge,  as  we  cannot  look 
upon  without  amazement.  His  capacity  feemed  to 
have  grafpcd  all  that  was  revealed  in  books  before  his 
time  \  and  not  fatisfied  with  that,  he  began  to  llrike 
out  new  tra6ts  of  fcicnce,  too  many  to  be  travelled 
over  by  one  man  in  the  compafs  of  the  longelt  life. 
i'hefe,  therefore,  he  would  only  mark  down,  like  ini- 
perfecl  coaftings  in  maps,  or  fuppofed  points  of  land, 
to  be  farther  diicovered  and  afcertained  by  the  induf- 
try  of  after  ages,  who  Ihould  proceed  upon  his  notices 
or  conje6lures. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VIL  No.  554. 

Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  a  man  who,  for  greatnefs  of 
genius'arid  compafs  of  knowledge,  did  honoui  to  Ms 
age  and  country  ;  I  could  almoft  fay,  to  human  nUiire 
itfelf.j  He  poflcil'ed  at  once  all  thofe  extraordinary 
talents  which  were  divided  among  the  greateft  authors 
of  antiquity.  He  had  the  found,  dillint-t,  compr2- 
henfive  knowledge  of  Arijiotle,  with  all  the  beautiful 
lightSj  graces  and  embelliihments  of  Tully,  One  does 
not  know  which  to  admire  moft  in  his  writings,  the 
flrength  of  reafon,  force  of  ftylc,  or  the  brightnefs  of 
imagination. 

This  author  has  remarked,  in  feveral  parts  of  his 
works  that  a  thorough  infight  into  philolophy  makes  a 
good  Ideliever,  and  that  a  fmattering  in  it  naturally 
produces  fuch  a  race  of  defpicable  infidels  as  the  little 
profligate  v/riters  of  the  prefejit  ag<i,  whom  (I  mud 
confels)  I  have  always  accuied  to  myfelf,  not  fo  much 
for  their  want  of  faith,  as  their  want  of  learning. 

I  v/as  infinitely  pleafed  to  find  among  the  works  of 
this  extraordinary  man,  a  prayer  of  his  own  conipo^ 
fing,  which,  for  the  elevation  of  thought  and  greatnefs 
of  expreiT.on,  feems  ratlier  the  devotion  of  an  argel 
than  of  a  man.  His  principal  fault  fsems  to  h-.ve 
been  tlie  excefs  of  that  virtue  which  covers,  a  muki- 
tude  of  faults.     This  betrayed  him  to  fo  great  an  i^;  ■ 


140  ADDISONIAN' MISCELLANY. 

dulgence  towards  his  fervants,  whovnade  a  corrupt  uffll  |^ 
of  it,  that  it  dripped  him  of  all  thofe  riches  and  hon- 
ours which  a  long  feries  of  merits  had  heaped  upoa 
him.  But  in  this  prayer,  at  the  fame  time. that  we 
find  him  prollrating  himfelf  before  the  great  mercy- 
feat,  and  humbled  under  afrii£lion3,  which  at  that' 
time  lay  heavy  upon  him,  we  fee  him  fupported  by  the: 
fenfe  of  his  integrity,  his  zeal,  his  devotion,  and  his, 
love  to  mankind,  which  give  him.  a  much  greater 
figure  in  the  minds  of  thinking  men,  than  that  great- 
nefs  had  done  from  which  he  was  fallen.  I  {hall  beg 
leave  to  write  down  the  prayer  itfelf,  with  the  title 
to  it,  as  it  was  found  among  his  lordfliip's  papers, 
written  in  his  own  hand  ;  not  being  able  to  furnifh 
my  readers  with  an  .  entertainment  more  fuitable  to** 
this  folemn  time. 

A  Prayer,  or  FJalmymade  hy  my  Lcrd  Bacon,  Chancellor,  of  *' 
England. 

**  Mod  gracious  Lord  Gcd,  my  merciful  Father 
■from  my  youth  up,  my  Creator,'  my  Redeemer,  my 
Comforter.  Thou,  O  Lord,  founded  and  fearched 
the  depths  and  fecrets  of  all  hearts  ;  thou  acknowledg- 
ed the  upright  of  heart ;  thou  judged  the  hypocrite, 
thou  pondered  m.an's  doings  as  in  a  balance  ;  thou 
meafured  their  intentions  as  with  a  line  ;  vanity  and 
crooked  ways  cannot  be  hid  from  thee. 

Remem.ber,  O  Lord,  how  thy  fervant  had  walked 
before  thee  ;  remember  what  I  have  &d  fought,  and 
what  hath  been  principal  in  my  intentions.  I  have 
loved  thy  aflemblies  ;  I  have  mourned  for  the  divi- 
£ions  of  thy  Church  ;  I  have  delighted  in  the  bright- 
nefs  of  thy  fanttuary.  The  vine  which  thy  right 
hand  hath  planted  in  this  nation,  I  have  ever  prayed 
tmto  thee  that  it  might  have  theiird  and  the  latter  rain^ 
and  that  it  might  dretch  its  branches  to  the  feas,  and 
to  the  floods.  The  date  and  bread  of  the  poor  and 
opprefied  have  been  precious  in  ray  eyes  ;  I  have  ha- 
ted all  cruelty  and  hardnefs  of  heart  -,  I  aave,  though 
in  a  defpifcd  weed,  procured  the  good  of  all  men.     if      ^ 


ADDISONIAN  ^^SCELLANY  141 

any  have  been  my  enemies,  I  thought  nvot  of  them, 
neither  hath  the  i'un  almoft  fet  upon  my  difpleafure  •, 
but  I  have  been,  as  a  dove,  free  from  fuperfluity  of  ma- 
licioufnefs.  Thy  creatures  have  been  my  books,  but 
thy  fcrintures  much  more  :  I  have  fought  thee  in  the 
courts,  (ields,  and  gardens  *,  but  I  have  found  thee  in 
thy  Temple. 

Thoufands  have  been  my  fins,  and  ten  thoufands 
my  tranfgre (lions  ;  but  thy  fanclifications  have  re- 
mained with  me, and  my  hcait,  through  thy  grace,  hath 
been  unquenched  fire  upon  thine  altar. 

O  Lord,  my  (Irength  j  I  have,  fince  my  yoath,  met 
'■A'ith  thee  in  all  my  ways,  by  thy  fatherly  compaflions, 
by  thy  comfortable  chailifements,  and  by  thy  molt 
viiible  Providence.  As  thy  favours  have  increafed 
upon  me,  fo  have  thy  corrections  ;  fo  as  thou  haft 
been  always  near  me,  O  J.ord  :  i^nd  ever,  as  my 
worldly  bleilmgs  were  exalted,  fo  lecret  darts  from 
thee  have  pierced  me  ;  and  v.-'rev  I  have  afcendcd  be- 
fore men,  I  have  defcendcd  ir-  humiliation  before  thee. 
And  now,  when  I  thought  rnoft  of  peace  and  honour^ 
thy  hand  is  heavy  upon  me,  and  hath  humbled  me, 
according  to  thy  former  loving  kindnefs^  keeping  me 
{till  in  thy  fatherly  fchool,  not  as  a  baftard,  but  as  a 
child.  Juft  are  thy  judgments  upon  me  for  my  fins, 
which  are  more  in  number  than  the  fands  of  the  fea, 
but  have  no  proportion  to  thy  mercies  •,  for  what  are 
the  fanc!s  of  the  fea  ?  Earth,  Heavens,  and  all  thefe, 
are  nothing  to  thy  mercies.  Befides  my  innumer- 
able fins,  I  confefs  before  thee,  that  I  am  debtor  to 
thee  for  the  gracious  talent  of  thy  gifts  and  graces, 
which  I  have  neitlier  put  into  a  napkin,  nor  put  it  (as 
I  ought)  to  exchangers,  where  it  might  have  made 
beft  profit,  but  m.i^ent  it  in  things  for  which  I  am 
leaft  fit :  So  may  I  truly  fay,  my  "foul  hath  been  a 
ftranger  in  the  courfe  of  my  pilgrimage.  Be  merciful 
unto  me,  O  Lord,  for  my  Saviour's  fake,  a;id  receive 
me  unto  thy  bofom,  or  guide  me  in  thy  ways. 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.' No.  267. 


142  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

BANKRUPTCY.  If, 

\_^TWAY,  in  his  Tragedy  of  Fer.ke  Pre/erved^  has 
^efcribed  the  mifery  of  a  man  whofe  effects  are-  in  the 
hands  of  the  law,  with  great,  fnirit.  The  bitternefs 
of  being  tht  fcorn  and  laughter  of  bafe  minds,  the  an 
guifh  of  being  infulted  by  men  hardened  beyond  the 
lenfe  of  fhame  and  pity,  and  the  injury  of  a  man*s  for- 
tune being  wafted  under  pretence  of  juftice,  are  excel- 
lently aggravated  in  the  following  fpeech  of  Pierre  to- 
Jajier  : 

I pafs'd  thit  'very  tnomer.i  hy  thy  doors y 

And  fnind  them  guarded  by  a  troop  of  ^villains  : 

The  jOns  of  public  rapine  ivere  defiroyiug, 

^key  tcld  me^  by  the  fentence  cf  the  la-iVy 

1  htey  hiad  coynmiffion  to  feize  all  thy  fortune  ', 

Nay,  fnorey  Priuli's  cruel  hand  had  fign^d  it. 

Here  food  a  ruff,an  ivith  a  horrid  face. 

Lording  it  o'er  a  pile  of  tncffy  platCy 

fumbled  into  a  heap  for  public  fale. 

^here  ivas  another  making  'villancus  jijls 

At  thy  undoing  :  He  had  ta\n  foJJeJjion 

Of  all  thy  ant  lent  moji  domeftic  ornaments  y 

Rich  hangings  intermix' d  and  nvr ought  ^vilh  geld, 

^he  '"jery  ledi  'vchich  on  thy  n.x:ed ding-night 

Kecei'v'd  thee  to  the  arms  ^/'Belvidera, 

^he  fcene  cf  all  tfiy  joys,  i.vere  "violated 

By  the  coarfe  hands  cf  filthy  dungeon  njillainSy 

And  throivn  amcngjl  the  common  lumber. 

Nothing  indeed  can  be  more  unhappy  than  the  con- 
dition of  bankruptcy.  The  calamity  which  happens 
to  us  by  ill  fortune,  or  by  the  injury  of  otl^ers,  has  in 
it  fome  confolation  ;  but  what  arifes  from  our  own 
mifbehaviour  or  error,  is  the  ftatc  of  the  mioft  exquifite 
forrow.  "When  a  inan  confiders  not  only  an  ample  for- 
tune, but  even  the  very  neceffaries  of  life^  his  pretence 
to  food  itfelf,  at  the  mercy  of  his  creditor?,  he  cannot 
but  look  upon  himfelf  in  the  ftate  of  tr#'^ead,  with 
his  cafe  thus  much  worfe,  that  the  bft  oflice  is  per- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  143 

•crmed  by  his  adverfaries  inftead  of  his  friends.  From 
his  hour  the  cruel  world  does  not  only  take  pofrefTion 
^f  his  whole  fortune,  but  even  of  every  thing  elfe, 
"iich  had  no  relation  to  it.  All  his  indifferent  ac- 
tions have  new  interpretations  put  upon  thein  ;  and 
thofe  whom  he  has  favoured  in  his  former  life,  dif- 
charged  themfelves  of  their  obligation  to  him,  by  join- 
ing in  the  reproaches  of  his  enemies.  It  is  almofl 
incredible  that  it  fiiould  be  fo,  but  it  is  too  often  feeii 
that  there  is  a  pride  mixcft  witli  the  impatience  of  thj£ 
creditor  ;  and  there  are  thcfe  who  would  rather  recov- 
er their  own  by  the  downfall  of  a  profperous  man,  than 
be  difcharged,  to  the  common  fatisfaclion  of  them- 
feJves  and  their  creditors.  The  wretched  man,  who 
was  latclv  mafter  of  abundance,  is  now  under  the  di- 
rection of  others  *,  and  the  wifdom,  ceconcmy,  gcod 
fenfe  and  (kill  in  human  life  before,  by  reafon  of  his 
prefent  misfortune,  are  of  no  ufe  to  him  in  the  dif- 
pofition  of  any  thing.  The  incapacity  of  an  infant  or 
a  lunatic  is  defigned  for  his  provifion  and  accommo- 
<lation  ;  but  that  of  a  bankrupt,  without  any  mitiga- 
tion in  refpecl;  of  the  accidents  by  which  it  arrived,  is 
calculated  for  his  utter  ruin,  except  there  be  a  remain- 
der ample  enough,  after  the  difcharge  of  his  creditors, 
to  bear  alfo  the  expence  of  rewarding  thofe  by  whofe 
means  the  eflecb  of  all  his  labour  was  transfered  from 
him.  The  man  is  to  look  on  and  lee  others  give  di- 
rections upon  what  terms  and  conditions  his  goods  are 
to  be  purehafed  ;  and  all  this  done,  not  with  an  air  of 
truftces  to  dilpofe  of  his  effedbs,  but  diftroyers  to  di- 
vide and  tear  them  to  pieces. 

There  is  fomethlng  facied  in  mifery  to  great  and 
good  minds  ;  for  this  reafon  rll  wUe  lawgivers  have 
been  extremelv  tender  how  they  let  loofe  even  the  man 
who  has  righton  his  fide,  to  act  with  any  mixture  of 
refentment  againfl  the  defendant.  Virtuous  and 
modeft  men,  though  they  be  ufed  with  fome  artifice, 
and  have  it  in  their  power  to  avenge  themfelves,  are 
{\o'r  in  the  application  of  their  power,  and  are  ever 
CO  illr?iined:-to  go  into  righteous  meafures  *,  they  are 
careful  to  dein'onilrate   themfelves  not  only  injured^ 


144  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

bat  alfo  that  to  bear  it  longer  would  be  a  means  to  mako 
the  oiFender  injure  others,  before  they  proceed. — Such 
men  clap  their  hands  upon  their  hearts,  and  confider 
•what  it  is  to  have  at  their  mercy  the  life  of  a  citizen. 
Such  would  have  it  to  ffiy  to  their  own  fouls,  if  pofPi- 
ble,  that  they  were  merciful,  when  they  could  have  de- 
{li^oyed,  rather  than,  when  it  v/as  in  their  power  to 
have  fpared  a  man,  they  deflroyed.— This  is  due 
to  the  common  calamity  of  human  life — due  in 
feme  meafure  to  our  very  enemies.  They  who  fcru- 
ple  doing  the  leaft  injury,  are  cautious  of  exacting  the 
iitmoft  juftice.  Let  ?ny  one  who  .is  converfant  in  the 
variety  of  human  life  reflect  upon  it,  and  he  will  find 
the  man  who  wants  mercy,  has  a  tafte  of  no  enjoy- 
ment of  any  kind  :  There  is  a  natural  difrelidi  of  every 
thing  which  is  good  in  his  very  nature,  and  he  is  born 
an  enemy  to  the  w^orld.  He  is  ever  extremely  partial 
to  himfcif  in  all  his  actions,  and  has  no  fenfe  of  ini- 
qiijty  but  from  the  pur.ifhm.cnt  v.^hich  fliall  attend  it. 
The  law  of  the  land  is  his  gofpel,  and  all  his  cafes  of 
confcience  are  determined  by  an  attorney.  Such  men 
knov/  not  what  it  is  to  gladden  the  heart  of  a  miferable 
fellow  man  ;  that  riches  are  the  inftruments  of  ferv- 
ing  the  parpofes  of  heaven  or  hell,  according  to  the 
difpofition  of  the  pofTeirori  The  wealthy  can  torment 
or  gratify  all  whom  they  have  in  their  power,  and 
choofe  to  do  one  or  ether  as  they  are  affected  with 
love  or  hatred  to  mankind.  As  for  fuch  who  are 
infenfible  of  the  concerns  of  others,  but  m.erely  as  they 
affect  themfelves,  thofe  men  are  to  be  valued  only  for 
their  mortaHty,  and  as  we  hope  better  things  from 
their  heirs.  I  could  not  but  read  with  great  delight 
a  letter  from  an  eminent  citizen  who  has  failed,  to 
one  who  was  intimate  with  him  in  li^e  better  fortune, 
and  able  by  his  countenance   to  rptiieve  his  loft  con- 


_T  is  in  vain  to  multiply  words  and  ma^:  apologies 
fpr  what  is  never  to  be  defended  by  the  beft  advocate 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         145 

in  the  world,  the  guilt  of  being  unfortunate.  All 
that  a  man  in  my  condition  can  do  or  fay,  will  be  re- 
ceived with  prejudice  by  the  generality  of  mankind, 
but,  I  hope,  not  with  you.  You  have  been  a  great 
inftrum^nt  in  helping  me  to  get  what  I  have  loft,  and 
I  know  (for  that  reafon,  as  well  as  klndrtefs  for  me) 
you  cannot  but  be  m  pain  to  fee  me  undone.  To 
ihew  you  I  am  not  a  man  incapable  of  bearing  calam- 
ity, I  will,  though  a  poor  man,  lay  afide  the  diitinc- 
tion  between  us,  and  talk  with  the  frankncfs  we  did 
when  we  were  nearer  to  an  equality.  As  all  I  do 
will  be  received  with  prejudice,  all  you  do  will  be 
looked  upon  with  partiality.  What  I  defire  of  yoa 
is,  that  you  who  are  courted  by  all,  would  fmile  upon 
me,  who  am  (hunned  by  all.  Let  that  grace  and  fa- 
vour which  your  fortune  throws  upon  you,  be  turned 
to  make  up  the  coldnefs  and  indifference  that  is  ufed 
towards  me.  All  good  and  generous  men  will  have 
an  eye  of  kindnefs  for  me  for  my  own  fake,  and  the: 
reft  of  the  world  will  regard  m<i  for  yours.  There  is 
a  happy  contagion  in  riches,  as  well  as  a  deftru£live 
one  in  poverty  :  the  rich  can  make  rich,  without 
parting  with  any  of  their  ftore  ;  and  the  converfationt 
of  the  poor  makes  men  poor,  though  they  borrow 
nothing  of  them.  How  this  is  to  be  accounted  for,  I 
know  not  ;  but  men's  eftimation  follows  us  according; 
to  the  company  we  keep.  If  you  are  what  you  were: 
to  me,  you  can  go  a  great  way  towards  my  recovery  ; 
ifyouarenot,  my  good  fortune,  if  ever  it  returns, 
will  return  by  {lower  approaches. 

I  am.  Sir  J    ^r. 

This  was  nnfwercd  with  a  condefcenfion  that  did 
not,  by  long  impertinent  profefTions  of  kindnefs,  in-, 
fult  his  diftrefs,  but  was  as  follows  ; 

Dear  ToM, 

JL  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  heart  enouglr 
to  begin  the  world  a  fecond  time.  I  aflure  you,  f 
do  not  think  your  xiumerous  family   at  all  dimin' 


1-4^  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

ifhed  (in  the  gifts  of  nature,  for  which  I  have  ev- 
er fo  much  admired  them)  by  what  has  lately  hap- 
pened to  you.  I  fliall  not  only  countenance  ycur 
atiiirs  with  my  appearance  for  you,  but  ihall  ac- 
commodate you  with  a  confiderable  fuKi,  at  com- 
mon intereft,  for  three  years.  You  knov/  I  could 
make  more  of  it  ;  but  1  have  fo  great  a  love  for 
you,  that  I  can  wave  opportunities  of  gain  to  help 
you  ;  for  I  do  not  care  whether  they  fay  of  me 
after  I  am  dead,  that  I  had  an  hundred,  or  fifty 
thoufand  pounds  more  than  I  wanted  when   I  was 


iivin^. 


Spectator,  Vol.  VI.  No.  45^-  T. 


BATH.  .: 

N  public  aflemblies  there  ate  generally  fome  envi- 
ous fplenetic  people,  who  having  no  merit  to  procure 
refpect,  are  ever  finding  fault  with  thofe  who  diftin- 
guifh  themfelves.  This  happens  more  frequently  at 
thofe  places  where  the  feafon  of  the  year  calls  perfons 
of  both  fexes  together  for  the  fake  of  their  health.  I 
have  had  reams  of  letters  from  Bath^  Epfon^  Tunhriige^ 
and  St.  Winifred  s  Well,  wherein  I  could  obferve,  that 
a  concern  for  honour  and  virtue  proceeded  from  the 
want  of  health,  beauty,  8cc.  or  fine  petticoats.  A  la- 
dy who  fubfcribes  herfelf  EudofiayV^xxtts  abitter  invec- 
tive agai  nit  C^^?^,  the  celebrated  dancer  ;  but  I  have 
learned,  that  fhe  herfelf  is  lame  of  the  rheumatilm. 
Another,  who  hath  been  a  prude  ever  fince  fhe  had  the 
fmali  pox,  is  very  bitter  againft  the  coquettes,  and  their 
indecent  airs  ;  and  a  fharp  wit  hath  fent  wae  a  keen 
epigram  againft  the  gamefters  ;  but  I  took  notice  that 
-it  was  not  written  upon  gilt  paper.  , 

Having  had  feveral  ftrange  pieces  of  intelligence 
from  the  Bath ;  as,  that  more  conftitutions  were 
weakened  there  than  repaired  ;  that  tl^g^^plryficians 
were  nOtrnQX^  bvify  ip  dcjtroyiiig  old  lodiSi,  than  the 


ADDSONiAN  MISCELLANY.  '  Mf 

young  fellows  in  producing  new  ones  •,  with  feveral 
other  common  place  ftvok^s  of  raillery  •,  I  refolved  to 
look  upon  the  company  there,  as  I  returned  lately 
out  of  the  country.  It  was  a  great  jeft  to  fee  fuch  a 
grave  ancient  perfon*  as  I  am,  in  an  embroidered  cap, 
and  brocade  night-^own  ;  but,  befides  the  neceffuy 
of  complying  with  the  cultom,  by  thefe  means  I  paf- 
fed  undilcovered,  and  had  a  plcamre  I  much  covet,  of 
being  alone  in  a  crowd.  It  was  no  little  fatisfacTtioii 
to  me,  to  view  the  mixed  mafs  of  all  ages  and  digni- 
ties upon  a  level,  partaking  of  the  fame  benefits  of  na- 
ture and  nungrmg  in  the  iame  divcrfions.  I  fome- 
times  entertained  myfelf  by  obferving  what  a  large 
il'-iantity  of  ground  was  lild  under  fpreading  petticoats, 
vind  what  little  patches  of  earth  were  covered' by  crea-- 
tiires  with  wigs'and  hats,  in  comparifon  with  thofc 
Ip.iccs  "that  were  diftmguiflied  by  ilcimces,  fringes, 
a'idfuibulows.  From  the  earth  my  fancy  was  di- 
retkd  to  the  water^  where  tlie  diil:in6lion  of  fex  and 
condiiion  are  concealed,  and  where  the  mixture  of  men 
and  women  hath  given  occaficn  to  forne  perfons  of. 
light  imagination  to  compare  the  Bat/i  to  the  fountain 
of  Sali;:a:is,  whlch  had  the  virtue  of  joining  the  two 
fc-xer.  in  one  pcrfon  ;  or  to  the  ftream  wherein  Diana 
wali^cd  herfelf,  Avhen  ihe  beilovv-ed  horns  on  A^ieon, 
I>ut  by  one  of  a  feiious  turn,  tliofe  fprings  may  rather 
he  likened  to  the  St^gion  waters,  wliich  made  the  bo- 
dy invulnerable  \  or  to  the  river  olLahsy  one  d-raught 
of  which  wafhed  awry  all  pain  and  anguifn  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

As  I  have  taken  upon  mz  i  name  which  obght  to 
abound  hi  humanity,  I  fhv'll  make  it  my  biifincfs  in 
this  paper  to  cool  and  aii'v:.:ge  thofe  malignant  hu- 
Kvours  of  fcandal'vv'hich  run  throughout  the  body  of 
men  and  womsn  there  aflenibled  \  and  after  the  man- 
ner of  thofe  faUiOus  waters,  I  will  endeavour  to  wipe 
awav  all  foul  afperfions,  to  rcllore  bloom  and  vigou 
to  decayed  reputations)  and  fet  injured  characters  Li[: 
on  their  le{^  again.  I  (liall  here  regulate  myfelf  by 
the  examoleof  that  good  nian  who  ufed  to  talk  -j^ixxx 
gh^rity  of  the  gveatcil:  villains  ;  nor  was  he  ever  herad 


r 

LiD- 


?45  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

to  fpeak  with  rigour  of  any  one,  till  he  affirmed  with 
ieverity  that  Nero  was  a  wag. 

Having  thus  prepared  thee,  gentle  reader,  I  HiriU 
sot  fcruple  to  entertain  thee  with  a  panegyric  upon 
the  gametlers.  I  have  indeed  fpoken  incautioufly 
heretofore  of  that  clafs  of  men  ;  but  I  ihould  forfeit 
all  titles  to  mocledy,  Ihould  I  any  longer  oppofe  the 
common  feiife  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  Ring- 
tlom.  Were  we  to  treat  all  thcfe  with  contempt  who 
are  the  favourites  of  blind  chance,  few  levees  would 
be  crowded.  It  h  not  the  height  of  fphere  in  vhich 
a  man  moves,  but  the  manner  in  which  he  afts,  that 
makes  him  truly  valuable.  When  therefore  I  fee  a 
gentleman  lofe  his  money  with  fereni^y,  I  recognize 
wi  him  ail  the  great  qualities  of  a  philofopher.  If  he 
itorms  and  invokes  the  gods,  I  lament-that  he  is  not 
placed  at  the  head  of  a  regiment.  The  great  gravity 
of  the  countenances  round  //^rr//c»'s  table,  puts  me  in 
juind  of  a  council-board  ;  and  the  indefatigable  ap- 
plication of  the  feveral  combatants,  furniflies  me  with 
an  unanfwetable  reply  to  thofe  gloomy  mortals  wlio 
€enfure  this  as  an  idle  life.  In  fliort,  I  cannot  fee 
any  reafon  why  gentlemen  fliould  be  hindered  from 
railing  a  fortune  by  thofe  means  which  at  the  fam.e 
time  enlarge  their  minds  :  nor  fliall  I  fpeak  diilion- 
ourably  of  fome little  artifices  and  finclTe  ufed  upon  thefe 
occafions,  fince  the  world  is  fo  juft  to  any  man  who 
is  becdme  a  poUfriTor  of  wealth,  as  not  to  refpe£l  him 
fihe  lefs  for  the  methods  he  took  to  come  by  it. 

Upon  confiderations  like  thefe,  the  ladies  fhare  In 
thele  divcrfions.  I  muft  own,  that  I  receive  great 
pleaf'jre  m  feeing  my  pretty  country-women  engaged 
in  an  aniufcment  v/hich  p;its  them  upon  prodiicingfo 
many  virtues.  Hereby  tiiey  acquire  fuch  a  boldnefs 
as  raifes  them  nearer  that  lordly  creature,  Man.  Here 
they  are  taught  fuch  contempt  of  wealth,  as  may  di- 
late their  minds,  and  prevent  many  curtain  leaures. 
Their  natural  tendernefs  is  a  weaknefs  here  eafily  un- 
learned ',  and  I  find  my  foul  exalted,  when  I  fee  a  lady 
facrifice  the  fortune  of  her  children  with  a§-little  con- 
cern as  a  spartan  cxRomarr  dame.     In  fuch  a   piace  as 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  149 

tht  Bath,  I  might  urge,  that  the  cafting  of  a  die  is  in- 
deed ths  propereft  exercife  for  a  fair  creature  to  afTill 
the  waters  •,  not  to  mention  the  opportunity  it  gives 
to  diiplay  the  well-turned  arm,  and  to  fcatter  to  ad- 
vantage the  rays  of  the  diamond.  But  I  am  fatisfied 
that  thf  gamefter-ladies  have  furmounted  the  Httle 
vanities  of  fliewing  their  beauty,  which  they  fo  far 
neglect  as  to  throw  their  features  into  violent  diflor- 
tions,  and  wear  away  their  lillies  and  roses  in  tedious 
watching  and  reftlefs  lucubrations.  I  fliould  rather 
obferve,  that  their  chief  paflion  is  an  emulation  o£ 
manhood  ;  which  I  am  the  more  inclined  to  believe, 
becaufe,  in  fpite  of  all  flanders,  their  confidence  in 
their  virtue  keeps  them  up  all  night  with  the  moft 
dangerous  creatures  of  our  fcx.  It  is  to  me*  an  un- 
doubted argument  of  their  eafe  of  confcience,  that 
they  go  dlrtclly  from  church  to  the  gaming-tabk, 
and  fo  highly  reverence  play,  as  to  make  it  a  great 
part  of  their  exercife  on  Sundays. 

Th^  TVaier  Pcsis  are  an  hinoccnt  tribe,  and  deferve 
uil  the  encouragemerit  1  can  give  them.  It  would  be 
barbarous  to  treat  tliofe  authors  with  bitternefs,  who 
never  ;vrite  out  oijeafon^  and  whole  works  are  ufeful 
with  the  waters.  I  made  it  my  care  therefore  to  fweet- 
en  fome  four  critics  wlio  were  fliarp  upon  a  few  fon- 
nets,  which,  to  fpeak  in  the  language  of  the  Bath^ 
•wexQ  mtxt  Jlkaiies,  I  took  particular  notice  of  a 
lenitive  ekduary,  which  was  wrapt  up  in  fome  of  thcfe 
gentle  compofitions  ;  and  am  perfuaded  that  the  pret^ 
ty  one  who  took  it,  was  as  much  relieved  by  the  cov- 
er as  the  medicine.  There  are  an  hundred  general 
topics  put  into  metre  every  year,  ^nz.  The  lover  is  in- 
famed  in  the  n.valer  ;  or,  he  finds  his  death  nvhsre  he  foitghi 
his  cure  ;  j^or,  the  nymph  feels  her  civn  pain^  ^without  regard- 
ing her  Icver^s  tortnetit.  Thefe,  being  forever  repeated, 
have  at  prefent  a  very  good  efleS ;  and  a  phyficiaii 
aiTures  me,  that  laudanum  is  almoil  out  of  doors  at  the 
Bath. 

Tlie  phyficiafts  here  are  very  numerous,  but  very 
good  natured.  To  thefe  charitable  gentlemen  I  owe 
Jhat  I  was  gured,  in  a  wcak's  time,  of  more  dift«m- 
■      "       '         N-3    - 


I5<5  ADDISONIAN  MISCELL.\Nr. 

pers  than  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  They  had  alnv){l 
killed  me  with  their  humanity.  A  learned  fellow- 
lodger  prefcribed  me  a  little  fometh'mg^  at  my  firft  com- 
jncj;,  to  keep  up  my  fpirits  ;  and  the  next  morning  I 
was  fo  enlivened  by  another,  as  to  have  an  order  to 
bleed  for  my  fever.  I  v/as  proffered  a  cure  for  the 
fcurvy  by  a  third,  and  had  a  receipt  for  the  dropfy 
gratis  before  night.  In  vain  did  1  modeftly  decline 
thefe  favours  -,  for  I  vi^as  awakened  early  in  the  morn- 
ing by  the  apothecary^  who  brought  me  a  dofe  from 
one  of  my  v/ell-wifhers.  I  payed  him, 'but  withal 
told  him  ieverely.  that  I  never  took  phylk.  My  land- 
lord hereupon  took  me  for  an  Italian  merchant,  that 
fufpecrcd  poifon  ;  but  the  apothecary,  with  more 
fagacity,  guelTed  that  I  was  certainly  a  phyfician  my- 
leif. 

Tlie  oppreiTion  of  civilities  v/hich  I  underwent  from 
the  fage  gentlemen  of  the  faculty,  frightened  me  from 
making  fuch  inquiries  into  the  nature  of  thofe  fprings, 
as  would  have  furnifhed  out  a  nobler  entertainment 
upon  the  Baih^  than  the  loofe  hints  I  have  now  thrown 
together.  Every  man  who  hath  received  any  benefit 
there,  ought,  in  proportion  to  his  abilities,  to  improve, 
adorn,  or  recommend  it  :  a  prince  fiiould  found  hof- 
pitals  ;  and  the  noble  and  rich  may  diffufe  their  am- 
ple charities.  Mr.  ^ompicn  gave  a  clock  to  the  Bath  \ 
and  I,  ISieJler  Ironftdcy  have  dedicated  a  Guardian. 

Guardian,  Vol.  II.  No.  174. 


BEARDS. 

VV  HEN  I  was  laft  with  my  friend  Sir  Jloger,  in. 
tV?(iminj}er'-Ahleyi  I  obfcrved  that  he  ftood  Icnger  than 
ordinary  before  the  baft  of  a  venerable  old  man.  I 
was  at  a  lofs  to  guefs  the  reafon  of  it,  when  after  fome 
*iiiie  he  pointed  at  the  figure,  and  afked  me  if  I 
4id  not  think  that  our  forefathers  looked  much  wifer 
in  their  beards  than  we  do  without  them  :  for  my 
part,  fays  he,  when  I  am  walking  in  my  gallery  in  the. 
^omitry,  and  fee  my  auccftors,  who  many  of  them  died 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELJLANY.  151 

before  they  were  of  my  age,  I  cannot  forbear  regard- 
ing them  as  fo  many  old  patriarchs,  and  at  the  fame 
time  looking  upon  myfelf  as  an  idle  fmockfaced  young 
fellow.  I  love  to  fee  your  Abrahams,  your  I/aacsy  and 
your  Jaoohsy  as  we  have  them  in  old  pieces  of  tapeftry,, 
with  beards  below  their  girdles,  that  cover  half  the 
hangings.  The  knight  added,  if  I  would  recommend 
beards  in  one  of  my  papers,  and  endeavour  to  rcftore 
human  faces  to  their  ancient  dignity,  that  upon  a 
month's  warning  he  would  undertake  to  lead  up  the 
fafliion  hlmfelf  in  a  pair  of  whifkers. 

I  fmiled  at  my  friend's  fancy  ;  but  after  we  parted, 
could  not  forbear  refle6ling  on  the  metamorphofes  our 
faces  have  undergone  in  this  particular. 

The  beard,  conformable  to  the  notion  of  my  friend 
Sir  Roger^  was  for  many  ages  looked  upon  as  the  type 
of  wifdom.  tucian  more  than  once  rallies  the  philofo- 
phers  of  his  time,  who  endeavoured  to  rival  one  an- 
other with  beards  ;  and  reprefents  a  learned  man  who 
flood  for  a  profeflbrfliip  in  philofophy,  as  unqualified 
for  it  by  the  fhortnefs  of  his  beard. 

u'EJianj  in  his  account  of  Zoiius  the  pretended  critic, 
^  who  wrote  againfl:  Homer  and  Plato,  and  thought  him- 
felf  wifer  than  all  who  had  gone  before  him,  tells  us 
that  this  Zoiius  had  a  very  long  beard  that  hung  down- 
upon  his  bread,  but  no  hair  upon  his  head,  which 
he  always  kept  clofe  fliaved,  regarding,  it  feems,  the. 
hairs  of  his  head  as  fo  m.any  fuckers,  which,  if  they 
had  been  fufPered  to  grow,  might  have  drawn  away 
the  nourilhment  from  his  chin,  and  by  that  means 
have  ftarved  his  beard. 

I  have  read  fome where,  that  one  of  the  popes  re- 
fufed  to  accept  an  edition  of  a  faint's  works  which' 
were  prefented  to  him,  becaufethe  faint,  in  his  effigies 
before  the  book,  was  drawn  without  a  beard. 

We  fee,  by  thefe  inftances,  what  homage  the  world 
formerly  paid  to  beards  ;  and  that  a  barber  was  not 
then  allowed  to  make  thofe  depredations  on  the  faces 
of  the  learned,  which  have  been,  permitted  of  later 
years. 

Accordingly,  feveral  wife  nations  have  been  fo  ex- 


nJ! 


152  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

tremely  jealous  of  the  leall:  rufHe  olFerecl  to  iheir  beards,  'Ijiij 
that  thiy  fefiired  to  have  fixed  the  point  cf  honour  mifi 
principally  in  that  part.  The  Spaniards  were  won-  I  li 
derfally  tender  in  this  particular.  Don  ^eve^'oj'm  his  Itai 
third  vifion  on  the  laft  judgment,  has  eanied  thehia- 
raour  very  far,  when  he  cells  us  that  one  cf  his  vain- 
glorious countrymen,  after  having  received  fentence, 
was  taken  into  cuflody  by  a  couple  of  evilfpirits  i  fcri 
but  that  his. guides  happening  to  diforder  his  mufta-  t 
choes.  they  were  forced  to  recompofe  them  with  a  t: 
pair  of  curling-irons,  before  they  could  get  him  to 
file  oiF. 

If  we  look  into  the  hiflory  of  our  own  nation,  v/e 
fhall  find  that  the  beard  flouriihed  in  the  Saxo»  Hep- 
tarchy, but  was  very  much  difcouraged  by  the  Nor- 
man line.  It  (hot  out,  however,  from  time  to  time, 
in.feveral  reigns,  under  diiterent  fliapcs.  .  The  laft 
effort  it  made  feems  to  have  been  in  Queen  Mary^s 
days,  as  the  curious  reader  may  find,  if  he  pleafes  to 
perufe  the  figures  of  cardinal  Poole  and  bifliop  Gardi- 
ner J  though  at  the  fame  time  I  think  it  may  be  quef- 
tioncd,  if  zeal  againfc  popery  has  not  induced  our 
proteftant  painters  to  extend  the  beards  of  thofe  two 
perfecutors  beyond  their  natural  dimensions,  in  order 
to  make  them  appear  the  more  terrible. 

I-fiftd  but  fev/  beards  worth  taking  notice  of  in  the 
long,  reign  of  king  James  tlie  firfl. 

During  the  civil  wars,  there  appeared  one  which 
makes  too  great  a  figure  in  fbory  to  be  pafied  over  in 
filence  -,  I  mean  that  of  the  redoubted  Hudibras,  an  ac- 
count of  which  Butler  has  tranfmitted  to  pollerity  in 
the  following  lines  : 

His  ta'wny  heard  vjos  th*  equal  grace 
Both  of  his  <xvifdovi  and  his  face  ; 
In  cut  and  dye  fo  like  a  tyky 
A  fudden  vie-iv  it  nAJculd  heguile  ; 
The  icpper  part  thereof  ^-l^j as  ^vhey. 
The  netheryorange  7hixt  ixithgrsj. 

The  whifker  continued  for  fome  time  among  us 
after  the  expiration  of  beards  >   but  this  is  a   fubjcCt 


ADDISONIAN  l^IISCELLANY:  15'j 

V'hich  I  fliall  not  here  enter  upon,  having  difcufled  it 
at  large  in  a  diftin6t  treatife,  which  I  kept  by  me  ia 
manufcript,  upon  the  mvjlacho. 

If  my  friend  Sir  Roger*s  proje£l  of  introducing 
beards  fliould  take  efFedt,  I  fear  the  luxury  of  the 
prefent  age  would  make  it  a  very  expenfive  fafhion. 
There  is  no  quellion  but  the  beaux  would  foon  pro- 
vide themfelves  with  falfc  ones  of  the  lighted  colours 
■and  the  moft  immoderate  lengths.  A  fair  beard,  of 
the  tapcftry  fize  Sir  Roger  feems  to  approve,  could  not 
come  under  twenty  guineas.  The  famous  golden 
beard  of  jEfculapius  would  hardly  be  more  valuable 
than  one  made  in  the  extravagance  of  the  fafhion. 

Be  fides,  we  are  not  certain  that  the  ladies  would 
not  come  into  the  mode,  when  they  take  the  air  on 
horfeback.  They  already  appear  in  hats  and  feath- 
ers, coats  and  perriwigs  ;  and  I  fee  no  reafon  why  we 
may  not  fuppofe,  that  they  would  have  their  riding 
Uards  on  the  fame  occafion. 

Spectator,  Vol.  V.  No.  331.  X. 


BEAUTY. 

JnL  friend  of  mine  has  two  daughters,  whom  I  will 
call  L^titia  and  Daphne.  '  The  former  is  one  of  the 
greatefl  beauties  of  the  age  in  which  fhe  lives,  the  lat- 
ter no  way  remarkable  for  any  charms  in  her  perfon. 
Upon  ihis  one  clrcumftance  of  their  outward  form, 
the  good  and  ill  of  their  life  feems  to  turn.  Ltstitia 
from  her  childhood,  heard  nothing  elfe  but  commen- 
dations of  her  fortune  and  complexion  ;  by  which 
means  flie  is  no  other  than  nature  has  made  her,  a 
very  beautiful  outfule.  The  confcioufnefs  of  her 
charms  has  rendered  her  infupportably  vain  and  in- 
folent  towards  all  that  have  to  do  with  her.  Daphne, 
who  was  almoil*  twenty  before  one  civil  thing  had 
been  faid  to  her,  found  herfelf  obliged  to  acquire 
fome  accompIiOiments  to  make  up  for  the  want  of 
thofe  attrat^iions  which  {lie  faw  in  her  fifter.  Poor 
i?.v/^«^  was  feldom  fubmitted  toin  a  debate  wherein 


154  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

{he  was  concerned  ;  her  difcourfe  had  nothing  to  r£-- 
commend  it  but  the  good  fenfe  of  it  ;  and  ihe  was 
always  under  a  neceffity  to  have  very  well  confidered 
what  Ihe  was  going  to  t?iy  before  Ihe  uttered  it  •,  while ', 
Lcetitia  was  liftened  to  with  partiality,  and  appiobaticn 
fat  in  the  countenances  of  thofe  fiie  converted  v/ith, 
before  fhe  communicated  what  flie  had  to  fay.  Thefe 
caufes  have  produced  fuitable  efFecls  ;  and  L^ethiais 
as  infipid  a  companion,  as  Daphne  is  an  agreeable  one. 
Z^^-z/V/^?,  confident  of  favour,  has  ftudied  no  arts  to 
pleafe  ;  Duphne^  defpairing  of  any  inclination  towards 
her  perfon,  has  depended  only  on  lier  merits  Lcstitia 
has  always  fomething  in  her  air  that  is  fullen,  grave, 
and  difconrolate  \  Ijaphne  has  a  countenance  that  ap- 
pears cheerful,  open,  and  unconcerned.  A  young 
gentleman  this  v^^inter  faw  L^stitia  at  a  play>  and  be- 
came her  captive.  His  fortune  was  fiich',  that  he 
wanted  very  little  introdudion  to  fpeak  his  fentiments 
to  her  father.  The  lover  was  admitted  into  the  fami- 
ly, where  a  concerned  behaviour,  fevere  looks,  and 
diftant  civilities,  were  the  highclt  favours  he  could 
obtain  from  L^titia  5  while  Daphr.e  ufed  him  with  the 
gcod-humcur,  familiarity,  and  innocence  of  a  fider  : 
Infomuch  that  he  would  often  fay  to  her,  Dear  Daph- 
ne, ^LK^ert  ihcu  but  as  harjfonie  as  Lsititia. — She  received 
this  language  Vv'ith  that  ingenuous  and  pleafing  mirth, 
which  is  natural  to  a  woman  without  delign.  He 
itill  fighed  in  vain  for  Latitia^  but  found  certani  relief 
in  the  agreeable  converfation  of  Dafhne,  At  lengthy 
heartily  tired  v/ith  the  haughty  impertinence  \:.i  Lcetttia^ 
and  charmed  with  the  repeated  inftances  of  good-hu^- 
mour,  Vv'hich  he  obferved  in  Z),7/A;;^,  he  one  day  told 
the  latter,  that  he  had  fomething  fcofay  to  her  he  hoped 
file  would  be  pleafcd  with — Faitb^  Dapline,  (cont:n;ied 
he,)  I  am  in  love  'ivi ill  ihee,  and  defpife  thy  Jtjltr  finceidy. 
The  manner  of  his  declaring  himfelf  gave'his  miflrefs 
occafion  for  a  very  heartv  laughter — nay^  fays  he,  / 
hnoiv you  'i\:oidd  laugh  at  me,  lut  VU  ojli  ycur  father.  He 
did  fo  J  the  father  received  his  intelligence  with  no 
lefs  joy  than  furprifc,  and  v/as  very  glad  he  had  nov.- 
.no  care  left   but  for  his  Beauty,  which  he  thought 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  155? 

he  eoulJ  carry  to  market  at  his  leifure.  I  do  not 
know  any  thing  that  has  pleafed  me  lb  much,  a 
great  while,  as  this  conquell  of  my  friend  Daphne's, 
All  her  acquaintance  congratulate  her  upon  her 
chance-medley,  and  laugh  at  that  premeditatiag  mur- 
derer her  filter.  As  it  is  an  argument  of  aligl.t 
mind,  to  think  the  worfe  of  ourfelves  for  the  imper- 
fe(?tions  of  our  perfons,  it  is  equally  below  us  to  value 
ourfelves  upon  the  advantages  of  them.  The  fe- 
male world  fecm  to  be  almoll  incorrigibly  gone  aflray 
Jn  this  particular ;  for  which  renfon  I  fliall  recom- 
mend the  following  extract  of  a  friend's  letter  to  the 
profefled  Beauties,  who  are  a  people  almoft  as  infuffer- 
'.able  as  the  profefled  wits. 

"  Monfieur  ^e  St.  Evremont  has  concluded  one  of 
•his  eilays  with  affirming,  that  the  lail  fighs  of  an  hand- 
<fome  v/oman  arc  not  fo  much  for  the  l®fs  of  her  lite  as 
,cf  her  beauty.  Perhnps  this  raillery  is  purfued  too 
far  \  yet  it  is' turned  upon  a  very  obvious  remark,  that 
woman's  ftrongert:  paflion  is  for  her  own  beauty,  and 
that  fhe  values  it  as  her  favourite  difli notion.  From 
lienee  it  is  that  all  arts  which  pretend  to  improve  or 
.preferve  it,  meet  with  fo  general  a  reception  among 
the  fex.  To  fay  nothing  of  many  falfe  helps  and  con- 
traband wares  of  beauty,  which  are  daily  vended  in  this 
great  mart,  there  is  not  a  maiden  gentlewoman  of  a 
.good  family  in  any  county  of  South  Britain,  who^  has 
not  heard  of  the  virtues  of  May  dew,  or  is  furnifhcfl 
with  fome  receipt  or  other  in  favour  of  her  complex- 
.ion  :  and  I  have  known  a  phyfician  of  learning  and 
fenfe,  after  eight  vears  fludy  in  the  univcrfity,  and  a 
courfe  of  travels  into  mofl  countries  in  Europe,  owe 
,.the  fiift  raifing  of  his  fortune  to  a  cofmetic  wafh. 

This  has  given  me  occafion  to  confider  how  fo  uni- 
•verfal  a  difpofition  in  womankind,  which  fprings  from 
-a  laudable  motive,  the  defirc  of  pleafing,  and  proceeds 
upon  an  opinion  not  altogether  groundlefs,  that  na*- 
ture  maybe  helped  by  art,  may  be  turned  ±0  their  ad- 
vantage. And,  methlnks,  it  would  be  an  acceptable 
icrv ice  to  take  them  out  of  tJie  hands  of  quacks  and 
pretenders^  and  to.prevent  their  impofing  upon  them- 


'\S^  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  1 

felves,  by  difcovering  to  them  the  true  fecret  and  aft 
of  improving  beauty. 

In  orde/i  to  this,  before  I  touch  upon  it  directly,  iti 
'will  be  neceflary  to  lay  down  a  few  preliminary  max| 
jms,  viz.  < 

That  no  woman  can  be  handfome  by  the  force  of 
features  alone,  any  more  than  {he  can  be  witty  only 
by  the  help  of  fpeech. 

That  pride  deftroys  all  fymmetry  and  grace,  and  af- 
fe£lation  is  a  more  terrible  enemy  to  fine  faces  than 
the  fmall-pox. 

That  no  woman  is  capable  of  being  beautiful,  wha 
is  not  incapable  of  being  f alfe. 

And,  that  what  would  be  odious  in  a  friend,  is  de-j 
formity  in  a  miftrefs.  \ 

From  thefe  few  principles,  thus  laid  down,  it  will ' 
be  eafy  to  prove,  that  the  true  art  of  affifting  beauty, 
confifts  in  embellifhing  the  whole  perfon  by  the  pro- 
per ornaments  of  virtuous  and  commendable  qualities. 
By  this  help  alone  it  is,  that  thofe  who  are  the  favour- 
ite work  of  nature,  or,  as  Mr.  Dryden  exprefles  it,  the; 
porcelain  clay  of  human  kind,  become   animated,  and 
are  in  a  capacity  of  exerting  their  charms  ;  and  thofe 
who  feem  to  be  neglected  by  her,  like  models  wrought 
in  hafte,  are  capable  in  a  great   meafure  of  finifhmg ' 
*w  hat  fhe  has  left  imperfeS. 

It  is,  methinks,  a  low  and  degrading  idea""  of  ] 
that  fex,  which  was  created  to  refine  the  joys  and 
foften  the  cares  of  humanity  by  the  moft  agreeable 
participation,  to  confider-  them  merely  as  objects 
t)f  fight.  This  is  abridging  them  of  thdr  ^  na- 
tural extent  of  power,  to  put  them  upon  a  level  with 
their  piftures  at  Kneller^s.  How  much  nobler  is  the 
contemplation  of  beauty  heightened  by  virtue,  and 
commanding  our  efteem  and  love,  while  it  draws  our 
obfervation  !  How  faint  and  fpiritlefs  are  the  charms 
of  a  coquette,  when  compared  with  the  real  lovelinefs 
oi  Sophroniah  innocence,  piety,  good-humour  and  truth; 
virtues  which  add  a  new  foftnefs  to  her  fex,  and  even 
beautify  her  beauty  !  That  agreeablenefs  which  muft 
otherwife  have  appeared  m  longer  in  the  modeft  vir- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  157 

^In,  IS  now  preferved  in  the  tender  mmher,  the  pru- 
dent friend,  and  the  faithful  wife.  Colours  artfully 
fpread  upon  canvas  may  entertain  the  eye,  but  not  af  .• 
fe6l  the  heart  -,  and  (he  who  takes  no  care  to  add  ta 
the  natural  graces  of  her  perfon  any  excelling  qualities, 
may  be  allowed  ftili  to  amufe,  as  a  picture,  but  not  to 
triumph  as  a  beauty. 

When  j^^am  was  introduced  by  Milton^  defcribing 
Enje  in  Paradife^  and  relating  to  the  angel  the  imprel- 
fion  he  felt  upon  feeing  her  at  her  firft  creation,  he 
does  not  reprefent  her  like  a  Grecian  Venusy  by  her 
Tnape  or  features,  but  by  the  luflre  of  her  mind  which 
(lione  in  them,  and  gave  them  their  power  of  charm- 

Graceful  in  all  herjiepsy  Hea'v^n  in  hereje. 
In  every  gejlure  dignity  and  love  ! 

Without  this  eradiating  power,  the  proudeft  fair- 
one  ought  to  know,  (whatever  her  glafs  may  tell  her  to 
the  contrary)  that  her  molt  perfect  features  are  uni- 
formed and  dead. 

I  cannot  better  clofe  this  moral,  than  by  a  fhort 
epitaph  written  by  Ben  Johnfony  with  a  fpirit  which 
nothing  could  infpire  but  fuch  an  objed:  as  I  have 
beea  defcribing  ; 

Underneath  thisjlone  dcth  lie 
As  7nuch  virtue  as  could  die  ; 
Whichy  <when  alivcy  did  vigour  gi-ve 
^0  as  much  heauty  as  could  live. 

Splctator,  Vol.  L  No.  33.  R« 

There  is  nothing  which  gives  one  fo  pleafing  a 
profpeft  of  human  nature,  as  tke  contemplation  o£ 
wifdom  and  beauty.  The  latter  is  the  peculiar  por- 
tien  of  that  fex  which  is  therefore  called  fair;  but 
the  happy  concurrence  of  both  thefe  excellencies  in  the 
fame  peribn,  is  a  character  too  celeftial  to  be  frequent- 
ly met  with.  Beauty  is  an  over-weaning,  felf-fuffi- 
cient  thing,  carelefs  of  providing  itfelf  any  more  fub- 
ftantial  ornaments  ;  nay,  fo  little  does  it  confult  its 
own  interefls,  that  it  too  often  defeats  itfelf,  by  be* 

O 


158  ' ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

fraying  that  innocence  which  renders  it  lovely  and  derlil 
{arable.  As  therefore  virtue  makes  a  beautiful  wo-  ^-, 
man  appear  more  beautiful,  fo  beauty  makes  a  virtuous| 
woman  really  more  virtuous. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IV.  No.  302.  T. 


BEINGS. 

JL  HOUGH  there  is  a  great  deal  of  pleafure  in  con- 
templating the  material  world,  by  which  I  mean  that 
fyftem  of  bodies  into  which  nature  has  fo  curioully J 
wrought  the  mafs  of  dead  matter,  with  the  feveral  rela- 
tions which  thofe  bodies  bear  to  one  another  ;  there  is 
ftill,  methinks,  fomething^more  wonderful  and  furpri- 
iing  In  contemplations  on  the  world  of  life,  by  which  I 
mean  all  thofe  animals  with  which  every  part  of  the 
univerfeis  fuinifhed.  The  material  world  is  only  the 
iliell  of  the  univerfe  :  the  world  of  life  are  its  inhabit- 
ants. 

If  we  confider  thofe  parts  of  the  material  world 
which  lie  the  neareft  to  us,  and  are  therefore  fubje6fc 
to  our  obfervations  and  inquiries.  It  is  amazing  to  con- 
fider the  infinity  of  animals  with  which  it  is  (locked. 
Every  part  of  matter  is  peopled :  every  green  leaf 
fwaims  with  inhabitants  :  there  is  fcarce  a  fingle  hu- 
mour in  the  body  of  man,  or  of  any  other  animal,  in 
which  our  glafles  do  not  difcover  myriads  of  living 
creatures.  The  furface  of  animals  is  likewifc  cover- 
ed with  other  animals,  which  are  in  the  fame  manner 
the  bails  of  other  animals  that  live  upon  It.  Nay,  we 
iind  in  the  moft  folld  bodies,  as  in  marble  itfelf,  innu- 
merable cells  and  cavities,  that  are  crowded  with  fuch 
imperceptible  inhabitants,  as  are  too  little  for  the  na- 
ked eye  to  difcover.  On  the  other  hand  if  we  look 
into  the  more  bulky  parts  of  nature,  we  fee  the  feas, 
lakes,  and  rivers,  teeming  with  numberlefs  kinds  of 
living  creatures  i  we  find  every  mountain  and  marfir, 
wildernefs  and  wood,  plentifully  flocked  with  birds 
aud  beail*  ;  and  every  part  of  matter  affording  proper 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  15^ 

neceflaries  and  conveniences  for  the  livelihood  of  mul- 
titudes which  inhabit  it. 

The  author  of  the  Plurality  of  Worlds  draws  a  very 
g03d  argument  from  this  confideration,  for  th^  peopling 
of  every  planet  •,  as  indeed  it  feenis  very  probable, 
from  the  analogy  of  reafon,  that  if  no  part  of  matter, 
which  we  are  acquainted  with,  lies  wafte  and  ufelefs, 
thofe  great  bodies  which  are  at  fuch  a  diftance  from 
us,  (liould  not  be  defart  and  unpeopled,  but  rather 
they  fliould  be  furnifhed  with  beings  adapted  to  their 
refpe6live  fituations. 

Exiftence  is  only  a  blefling  to  thofc  beings  which 
are  endowed  with  perception,  and  is  in  a  manner 
thrown  away  upon  dead  matter,  any  farther  than  as  it 
i;  fubfervient  to  beings  which  are  confcious  of  their  ex- 
igence. Accordingly  we  find,  from  the  bodies  which 
lie  under  our  obfervation,  that  matter  is  made  only  as 
the  bads  and  fupport  of  animals  ;  and  that  there  is 
no  more  of  one,  than  what  is  necefTary  for  the  exift- 
ence of  the  other. 

Infinite  goodnefs  is  of  fo  communicative  a  nature, 
that  it  feems  to  delight  in  the  conferring  of  exiftence 
upon  every  degree  of  perceptive  being.  As  this  is  a 
fpeculation  which  I  have  often  purfued  with-  great 
pleafuire  to  myfelf,  I  fhall  enlarge  farther  upon  it,  b-y 
confidering  that  part  of  the  fcale  of  beings  which 
comes  within  our  knowledge. 

There  are  fome  living  creatures  which  are  raifed 
but  juft  above  dead  matter.  To  mention  only  that 
fpecies  of  ftiell-£ft»,  which  are  formed  in  th<j  tafliion 
of  a  cone,  that  grow  t©  the  furface  of  feveral  rocks, 
and  immediately  die  upon  being  fevered  from  the 
place  where  they  grow.  There  are  many  other  crea- 
tures but  one  remove  from  thefe,  which  nave  no  oth- 
er fenfebefides  that  of  feeling  and  tafte  ;  others  have 
ftill  an  additional  one  of  hearincr,  othdis  of  fmell,  and 
others  of  fight.  It  is  wondcriul  to  obferve,  by  what 
a  gradual  progrefs  thev/orld  of  life  advances  tnrough 
a  prodigious  variety  of  fpecie.^,  before  a  creature  is 
formed  that  is  complete  in  all  its  fenfes  ;  and  even 
among^  thefe  there  is  fuch  a  diftcrent  degree  of  p,^r-- 


:i6o  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

fe£lion  in  the  fenfe  which  one  animal   enjoys  beyonci 
what  appe:#s  in  another,  that  though  the  fenfe   in  dif- 
fercHt  animals  be  diflinguiflied  by   the  fame  common 
denomination,  it  feems  almoft  of  a  different  nature. 
If  after  this  we   look  into  the  feveral  inward  perfec- 
tions of  cunning  and  fagacity,  ©r  what   we  generally 
call  inftinft,  we  find   them  rifing  after  the  fame  man- 
ner imperceptibly  one  above  another,  and  receiving  ad- 
ditional improvements,    according   to  the    fpecies  in 
which  they  are  implanted.     This  progrefs  in  nature 
38  fo  very  gradual,  that  the  moft  perfeft  of  an  inferior 
fpecies  comes  very  near  to  the  mod  imperfed  of  that 
T/hich  is  immediately  above  it. 

The  exuberant  and  overflowing  goodnefs  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  whofe  mercy  extends  to  all  his 
■works,  is  plainly  feen,  as  I  have  before  hinted,  from 
his  having  made  fo  very  little  matter,  atleaft  what 
falls  within  our  knowledge,  that  does  not  fwarm 
•with  life  ;  nor  is  his  goodnefs  lefs  feen  in  the  diver- 
/ity  than  in  the  multitude  of  living  creatures.  Had 
he  only  made  one  fpecies  of  animals,  none  of  the  reft 
would  have  enjoyed  the  happinefs  of  exiftence.  He 
has  therefore  fpecified  in  his  creation  every  degree  of 
life,  every  capacity  of  being.  The  whole  chafm  of 
nature,  from  a  plant  to  a  man,  is  filled  up  with  di- 
vers kinds  of  creatures  rifing  one  over  another,  by 
fuch  a  gentle  and  eafy  afcent,  that  the  little  tranfi- 
tions  and  deviations  from  one  fpecies  to  another  are 
almoft  infenfible.  This  intermediate  fpace  is  fo  well 
hulbanded  and  managed,  that  there  is  fcarce  a  de- 
gree of  perception  which  does  not  appear  in  fome  one 
part  of  the  world  of  life.  Is  the  goodnefs  or  wifdom 
of  the  Divine  Being  more  manifested  in  this  his  pro- 
ceeding ? 

There  is  a  confequence  befides  thofe  I  have  alrea- 
dy mentioned,  which  feems  very  naturally  deduci- 
bk  from  the  foregoing  confiderations.  If  the  fcale 
of  being  rifes,  by  fuch  a  regular  progrefs,  fo  high  as 
man,  we  may  by  a  parity  of  reafon  fuppofe  that  it 
{till  proceeds  gradually  through  thofe  beings  which 
are  of  a  fuperior  nature  to  him  ;  fince  there  is  an  iu- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  i6r 

uuitely  greater  fpace  and  room  for  different  degrees  of 
perfedion  between  the  Supreme  Being  and  Man, 
than  between  man  and  the  mod  defpicable  infeft. 
The  coniequence  of  To  great  a  variety  of  beings, 
which  are  fuperior  to  us,  from  that  variety  which  is 
inferior  to  us,  is  made  by  Mr.  Locke,  in  a  paflage 
which  I  flrall  here  fet  down,  after  having  premifv^d 
that,  notwitlidanding  there  is  fuch  infinite  room  be- 
tween Man  and  his  Maker  for  the  creative  .power  to 
exert  itfelf  in,  it  is  impofTible  that  it  (liould  ever  be 
filledup,  fince  there  will  be  ftill  an  infinite  gap  or 
dillance  between  the  higheil  created  being .  and  the 
power  which  produced  him. 

That  there  fhould  be  vaoxQ /pedes  of  intelligent  crea- 
tures above  us,  than  there  are  of  fenfible  or  material 
below  us,  is  probable  to  me  from  hence  -,  that  in  all  tlie 
corporeal  world  we  fee  no  chafms,  or  no  gaps.  All 
quite  down  from  us  the  defcent  is  by  eafy  fteps,  and 
a  continued  feries  of  things  that  in  each  remove  differ 
very  little  one  from  the  other.  There  are  fiflies  that 
have  wings,  and  are  not  ftrangers  to  the  airy  region ; 
and  there  are  fome  birds,  that  are  inhabitants  of  the 
water,  whofe  blood  is  as  cold  as  fifhes,  and  their  fleih 
fo  like  in  tafte,  that  the  fcrupulous  are  allowed  them 
-on  lifli  days.  There  are  animals  fo  near  akin  both  to 
birds  and  beafts,  that  they  are  in  the  middle  between 
both.  Amphibious  animals  link  the  terreflrial  and 
aquatic  together  \  feals  live  at  land  and  at  fea,  and 
porpoifes  have  the  warm  blood  and  entrails  of  a  hog  ^ 
not  to  mention  what  is  confidently  reported  of  mer- 
maids or  fea-men.  There  are  fome  brutes  that  feeni 
to  have  as  much  knowledge  and  reafon  as  fome  that 
are  called  men  j  and  the  animal  and  vegetable  king- 
doms are  fo  nearly  joined,  that  if  you  will  take  the 
Jowefl  of  oae,  and  the  highefl  of  the  other,  there  will 
fearce  be  perceived  any  great  difi'erence  between  them 
and  fo  on,  till  we  come  to  the  very  loweft  and  tlie 
moll  inorganical  parts  of  matter,  we  fhall  find  every 
where  that  the  feveral  fpecies  are  linked  together,  and  • 
difler  but  in  almoft  infenfible  degrees.  And  when  we 
QoaHder  x\m  infiiiite  power  and  wifdom  of  the  Maker, 

U   2 


n52         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

we  have  reafon  to  think,  that  it  is  fuitable  to  the  mag- 
nificent harmony  of  the  univerfe,  and  the  gfeat  de- 
fign  and  infinite  goodnefs  of  the  Architect,  that  the 
/lecies  of  creatures  fhould  alfo,  by  gentle  degrees,  af- 
-cend  upward  from  us  toward  his  infinite  perfedion, 
as  we  fee  they  gradually  defcend  from  us  downwards  : 
which  if  it  be  probable,  we  have  reafon  then  to  be 
perfuaded,  that  there  are  far  more  fpecies  of  creatures 
above  us,  than  there  are  beneath  ;  we  being  in  de- 
grees of  perfection  much  more  remote  from  the  infi- 
nite being  of  God,  than  we  are  from  the  loweft  flate 
of  being,  and  that  which  approaches  neareft  to  noth- 
ing. And  yet  of  all  thofe  diftincty^t'aVi  we  have  no 
clear  diftinft  ideas.^^ 

In  this  fyflem  of  being,  there  is  no  creature  fo  won- 
derful in  its  nature,  and  which  fo  much  deferves  our 
particular  attention,  as  Man,  who  fills  up  the  middle 
fpace  between  the  animal  and  intellectual  nature,  the 
vifible  and  invifible  world  ;  and  is  that  link  in  the 
chain  of  beings  which  has  been  often  termed  the  «'*•- 
us  utriu'fque  mundu  So  that  he  who  in  one  refpect  is  af- 
lociated  with  angels  and. .arch-angels,  may  look  upon 
a  Being  of  infinite  perfection  as  his  father,  and  the 
higheit  order  of  fpirits  as  his  brethren,  may  in  an- 
other refpe6t  fay  to  ccrrupiion,  thou  art  my  father  ;  and  ta 
the  <vjormj  thou  art  my  7nother  and  myjtjter. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VII.  No.  519.  O.. 


BILLS  OF  MORTALITY.. 

\j  PON  taking  my  feat  in  a  coffee -houfe,  I  often. 
<!raw  the  eyes  of  the  whole  roo»i  upon  me  when  in- 
the  hotteft  feafons  of  news,  and  at  a  time  perhaps  that 
the  Dutch  mail  is  juft  come  in,  they  hear  me  afk  the 
coffee-man  for  his  laft  week's  bill  of  mortality.  I  find 
1  have  been  taken  fometimes  on  this  occafion  for  a 
parifii  SextoTiy  fometimes  for  an  Undertaker,  and  fome- 
times  for  a  Do£t©r  of  phyfic.     In  this  however  I  am. 

fuided  by  the  fpLrit  of  a  philofopher,  as  I  take  occa- 
_on  from  hence  \q  reflect  "pow  the  regular  increafe 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         163 

Tind  dlmIni',ion  of  mankinOj  ano.  c-hfider  the  feveral 
various  ways  through  which  we  pafs  ftom  Hfe  to  im- 
mortahty,  I  am  very  weli  pN=afc:d  with  thefe  weekly 
admonitions  that  bring  into  luy  mind  fuch  thoughts  as 
ought  to  be  the  daily  entertainment  of  every  reafona- 
ble  creature,  and  confuler  with  pleafure  to  myfeh'"^  by 
wiiich  of  thofe  deliverances,  or  as  we  commonlv  call 
thern,  diitempers,  I  may  polhbly  make  my  efcape 
out  of  this  worl'/.  of  forrows  into  that  condition  of  ex- 
jftencc  wiicrein  I  hope  to  be  happier  than  it  is  pofTible 
for  me  at  prefeiit  to  conceive. 

But  this  is  not  all  the  ufe  I  make  of  the  above- 
mentioned  wr— kl/  paper.  A  bill  of  mortality  is,  in. 
my  opi.rion,  an  unanfwerable  argument  for  a  Provi- 
dence. How  can  we,  without  fuppofing  ourfelvea 
under  the  coi.ftant  care  of  a  Supreme  Being,  give  any 
poihble  account  for  that  nice  proportion  which  ws 
find  in  every  great  city  between  the  deaths  and  births 
of  its  inhabitants,  and  between  the  number  of  males 
and  that  of  females  who  are  brought  into  the  world  ? 
What  elfe  could  adjuft  in  fo  exadt  a  manner  the  re- 
cruits of  every  nation  to  its  lofles,  and  divide  thefe 
new  fupplies  of  people  into  fuch  equal  bodies  of  both 
fcxes  ?  Chance  could  never  hold  the  balance  with  fo 
Heady  a  hand.  Were  we  not  counted  out  by  an  in- 
telligent Supervifor,  we  fhould  fom.etimes  be  over- 
charged with  multitudes,  and  at  others  wafte  away  in- 
to a  defart :  we  fhould  be  fometimes  a  Po/u/us  k'tcrum^ 
as  Florus  elegantly  exprefles  it,  a  generation  of  miles 'y 
and  at  others,  a  fpecies  of  women.  We  may  extend 
this  confideration  to  every  fpecies  of  living  creatures,, 
and  confider  the  whole  animal  world  as  an  huge  ar- 
my made  up  of  innumerable  corps,  if  I  may  ufe  that 
term,  whofe  quotas  have  been  kept  entire  near  five 
thoufand  years,  in  fo  wonderful  a  manner,  that  there 
is  not  probably  a  fmgle  fpecies  loft  during  this  long 
traO:  of  time.  Could  we  have  general  bills  of  mor- 
tality of  every  kind  of  animals,  or  particular  ones  o£ 
every  fpecies  in  each  continent  and  iiland,  I  could  al- 
moll  fay  in  every  wood,  marfli,  or  mountain,  wh*at 


i6|  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

aftonifiiing  inllances  would    they  be   of  that   Provi- 
dence which  watches  over  all  its  v/crks  ! 

I  have  heard  of  a  great  man  in  the  Romijh  Churchy 
who,  upon  reading  thofe  words  in  the  5th  Chapter  of 
Genelis--A7:d all  the  days  that  Adam  lii.gci^  ivcre  r:if:e hundred: 
and  t hirf\y years y  and  he  died j  ant  all  the  days  ^/'Seth  nxera. 
nir.e  hundred  t'ivelve years ^  and  hs  died  ;  and  all  the  days  of 
Methufebh  ivere  nine  hundred  ard fixty-nine years^  and  he 
dtea  ;  immrdiateiy  fhut  hirrjfelf  up  in  a  Convent,  and 
retired  from  the    world,  as  not  thinking  any  thing  in? 
this  Hfe  woith  purfuing,  which  had  no^  regard  to   an- 
other. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  there  is- nothing  in  hiflory  which  ' 
is  fo  improving  to  the  reader'as  thofe  accounts  which ^ 
we  meet  with  of  the  deaths  of  eminent  perfons,  and 
of  their  beliaviour  in  that  drer.dful  feafon.  I  may  alfo 
add,  that  there  are  no  parts  in  hiftory  which  affe6t 
and  pleafe  the  reader  in  fo  fenfibl'i  a  manner.  The 
reafon  I  take  to  be  this,  becaufe  there  is  no  other  lingle 
circumftance  in  the  flory  of  any  perfon,  which  can 
poflibly  be  the  cafe  of  every  one  who  reads  it.  A 
battle  or  a  trium.ph  are  corije£lures  in  which  not  one 
in  a  million  is  hkely  to  be  engaged;  but  when  we 
fee  a  perfon  et  the  point  of  death,  we  cannot  foibeur 
being  attentive  to  every  thing  he  fays  or  does,  becaufe 
we  are  fure  that  fome  time  or  other  we  fliall  ourfelvec 
be  in  the  fame  melancholy  circumftances.  The  Gen- 
eral, the  Statefman,  or  the  Philofopher,  are  perhaps 
characters  which-  we  may*  never  act  in  ;  but  the  dy- 
ing m.an  is  one  whom  fooner  or  later  we  fhail  certain- 
ly refemble. 

It  is  perhaps  for  the  fame  kind  of  reafon  that  few 
books  written  in  Englifh  have  been  fo  much  perufed 
as  Dr.  Sherlock's  difcourfe  upon  death  -,  though  at  the 
fame  time  Imuft  own,  that  he  who  has  n©t  perufed 
this  excellent  piece,  has  not  perhaps  read  one  of  ihe 
flrongeft  perfuafives,  to  a  religious  life  that  ever  was 
written  in  any  language. 

The  confideration  with  which  I  (hall  clofe  this  ef- 
fay  upon  death,  is  one  of  the  moil  ancient  a^id  mofl 
beaten  moral§  \\ux  have  been-rccomraeuded  to  par^-- 


ADDSONIAN  MISCELLANY.  165 

kind  :  But  its  being  fo  very  common,  and  fo  univer- 
fally  received,  though  it  takes  away  from  it  the  grace 
of  novelty,  adds  very  much  to  the  vi^eight  of  it,  as  it 
(hews  that  it  falls  in  with  the  general  fenfe  of  man- 
kind. In  {hort,  I  would  have  every  one  confider,  that 
he  is  in  this  life  nothing  more  than  a  paflenger,  and 
that  he  is  not  to  fet  up  his  reft  here,  but  to  keep  an 
attentive  eye  upon  that  ftate  of  being  to  which  he 
approaches  every  moment,  and  which  will  be  forever 
fixed  and  permanent.  This  fingle  confideration 
would  be  fuflicient  to  extinguifli  the  bitternefs  of  ha- 
tred, the  thirft  of  avarice,  and  the  cruelty  of  ambi- 
tion. 

I  am  very  much  pleafed  with  the  paflage  of  Jnti- 
phanesy'3.  very  ancient  poet,  who  lived  near  an  hundred 
years  before  Soerates,  which  reprefcnts  the  life  of  man 
under  this  view,  as  I  have  here  tranflated  it,  word  for 
word.  "  Be  not  grieved,  (fays  he)  above  meafure  for 
thy  deceafcd  friends  ;  they  are  not  dead,  but  have  on- 
ly finiflied  that  journey  which  it  is  neceCary  for  every 
one  of  us  to  take.  We  ourfelves  muft  go  to  that  great 
place  of  reception,  in  which  they  are  all  of  them  af- 
lembled,  and  in  this  general  ren^lezvous  of  mankind^, 
live   together  in  another  ftage  of  being." 

I  think  I  have  in  a  forai:;r  paper  taken  notice  of 
thofe  beautiful  metaphors  in  fcripture,  where  life  is 
termed  a  pilgrimage,  and  thofe  who  pafs  through  it 
are  called  ftraiigers  and  fojourners  upon  earth.  I  fhall 
conclude  this  with  a  ftory.  which  1  have  fomewhere 
read  in  the  travels  of  Sir  jolm  Char  din.  That  gentle- 
man after  having  told  us  that  the  Inns  which  receive 
the  Caravans  in  Perfia,  ajid  the  eaftern  countries,  are 
called  by  the  name  of  Cara^oanjariesy  gives  us  a  relation 
to  the  following  purpofe  : 

A  Dervife,  travelling  through  Tartary,  being  arrived 
at  the  town  of  Balky  went  into  the  king's  pahce  by 
miftake,  as  thinking  it  to  be  a  public  inn  or  caravanfii- 
ry.  Having  looked  about  him  foV  fome  time,  he  en- 
tered into  a  long  gallery,  where  he  laid  down  his  wal- 
let and  fpread  his  carpet,  in  order  to  repofe  himfelf 
upon  itj  after  the  manner  of  the  eaftern  nations.     He 


\66  ADDISONIAN  MIoCELLANY. 


had  not  been  long  in  this  poflure  before  he;  was  dif- 
covered  by  fome  of  the  guards,  who  afked  him  what 
was  his  bufmefs  in  that  place  :  The  Der^vife  told  him 
he  intended  to  take  up  his  nights  lodging  in  that  cara^ 
vanfary.  The  guards  let  him  knov/  in  a  very  angry 
manner,  that  the  houfc  he  was  in  was  not  a  caravan- 
fary,  but  the  king^s  palace.  It  happened  that  the  king 
himfelf  paiTed  through  the  gallery  during  this  debate, 
and  fmiling  at  the  miftake  of  the  Dervijey  afked  him 
how  he  could.  pofTibly  be  fo  dull  as  not  to  diftinguifh 
a  palace  from  a  caravanfary  :  Sir,  fays  the  Der^ji/c,  give 
me  leave  to  afk  your  Majefty  a  queftion  or  two  :  Who 
were  the  perfons  who  lodged  in  this  houfe  when  Jt 
was  firft  built  ?  The  king  replied,  his  Ancefiors,  And 
who  fays  the  Dervi/e,  was  the  laft-  perfon  that  lodged 
here  ?  The  king  replied,  his  Father.  And  who  is, 
fays  the  Der^ife^  the  perfon  that  lodges  here  at  pre- 
fent  ?  The  king  told  him,  it  nvat  he  himfelf.  And  who, 
fays  he,  will  be  here  after  you  ?  The  king  anfwered^ 
the  young  Prince  his  Son.  Ah,  Sir,  fays  the  Der<vife^  a 
houfe  that  changes  its  inhabitants  fo  olten,  and  receives 
fuch  a  perpetual  fucceflion  of  guefts,  is  not  a  palace, 
but  a  caravanfary. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IV.  No.  289.  L. 


BLOCKHEADS. 

HEN  I  came  to  ihe  Coflfee-Houfe  this  evening-, 
the  man  of  the  houfe  delivered  me  a  book  very  finely 
bound.-  When  I  received  it,  I  overheard  one  of  the 
boys  whifper  another,  and  fay,  it  was  a  fine  thing  to 
be  a  great  fcholar  I  What  a  pretty  book  that  is  T  It 
has  indeed  a  very  gay  outfidc,  and  is  dedicated  to  me 
by  a  very  ingenious  gentleman,  who  does  not  put  his 
name  to  it.  The  title  of  it,  for  the  work  is  in  Latin^ 
is,  Epiflolarum  Obfcurorurn  Vtrorum^  ad  Dom.  M.  Ortuinum 
Grctium,  Vohmnia  U.  &c., — "  The  epiitles  of  the  ob- 
fcuie  writers  to  Ortuinusy^  &:g.  The  purpofe  of  the 
work  is  fignified  in  the  dedication,  in  very  elegant 
language  and  fine  raillery.     It  feems  this  is  a  colleo*- 


I 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  1^7 

tfon  of  letters,  which  fome  profound  blockheads  who 
lived  before  our  times,  have  written  in  honour  of  each 
other's  abfurdities.  They  are  moflly  of  the  German 
iiatlons,  whence  from  time  to  time  an  inundation  of 
writers  have  flowed,  more  pernicious  to  the  learned 
world,  than  the  fwarms  of  Gcths  and  Vandals  to  the 
politic.  It  is,  methinks,  wonderful,  that  fellows 
iliouldbe  awake  and  utter  fuch  incoherent  conceptions, 
and  converfe  with  great  graviiy  like  learned  men, 
without  the  Ieart;tafle  of  knowledge  or  good  fenfe.  It 
would  have  been  an  endlefs  labour  to  have  taken  any- 
other  method  of  expofmg  fuch  impertinences,  than  by 
an  edition  of  their  own  works,  where  you  fee  their 
follies,  according  to  the  ambition  of  fuch  virtuofi,  in 
a  moiC  correal  edition. 

Looking  over  thefe  accompliilied  labours,  I  could 
not  but  refle(Sl  upon  the  immenfe  load^^of  writings 
which  the  commonality  of  fcholars  have  puflied  into 
tke  world,  and  the  abfurdity  of  parents,  who  educate 
crowds  to  fpend  their  time  in  purfuit  of  fuch  cold  and 
fprightlefs  endeavours  to  appear  in  public.  It  feems 
therefore  a  fruitlefs  labour,  to  attempt  the  corre£lioii 
of  the  tafte  of  our  cotemporaries,  except  it  was  in 
our  power  to  burn  all  the  fenfelefs  labours  of  our  an- 
ceflors.  There  is  a  fecret  propen&ty  in  nature,  from 
generation  to  generation,  in  the  blockheads  of  one 
age,  to  admire  thofe  of  another  ;  and  men  of  the  fame 
imperfections  are  as  great  admirers  of  each  other,  as 
thofe  of  the  fame  abilities. 

This  great  mifchief  of  voluminous  follies,  proceeds 
from  a  misfortune  which  happens  in  all  ages,  that 
men  of  barren  geniufes,  but  fertile  imaginations,  are 
bred  fcholars.  This  may  at  firft  appear  a  paradox  ; 
but  when  we  confider  the  talking  creatures  we  meet  hi 
public  places,  it  will  no  longer  be  fuch.  Ralph  ShaU 
Iffiv  is  a  young  fellow  that  has  not  by  nature  any  the 
leaft  propenfity  to  ftrike  into  what  has  not  been  ob- 
ferved  and  faid,  every  day  of  his  life,  by  others  :  But 
with  that  inability  of  fpeaking  any  thing  that  is  uncom- 
mon, he  has  a  great  readlnefs  at  what  he  can  fpeak  of, 
aiid  his  imaginatign  ruiis  iuto  #\11  the  different  views  of 


io8  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

the  fubjtcl  he  treats  of  in  a  moment.  If  Ralph  had 
learning  added  to  the  common  chit-chat  of  the  town,he 
would  have  been  a  difputant  upon  all  topics  that  ever 
were  confidcred  by  men  of  his  own  genius.  As  for 
my  part,  I  never  am  teazed  by  any  empty  town-fellow, 
but  I  blefs  my  ftars  that  he  was  not  bred  a  fchohr. 
This  addition  we  muft  confider,  would  have  made  him 
capable  of  maintaining  his  follies  ;  •  his  being  in  the 
wrong  would  have  been  :protected  by  fuitabie  argu- 
ments ;  and  when  he  was  hedged  in  by  logical  terms 
and  falfe  appearances,  you  muft  have  owned  yourfelf  ^ 
convinced  before  you  could  then  have  got  rid  of  him, 
and  the  fliame  of  his  triumph  had  been  added  to  the 
pain  of  his  impertinence. 

There  is  a  lort  of  littlenefs  in  the  minds  of  men  of 
wrong  fenfe,  which  makes  them  much  more  infuffer- 
able  than  me^  ^  fools,  and  has  the  farther  inconvenience 
of  being  attended  by  an  endlefs  loquacity  ;  for  which 
-reafon  it  would  be  a  very  proper  work  if  fome  well- 
wifher  to  human  fociety  would  confider  the  terms  up- 
on which  people  meet  in  public  places,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  unfeafonable  declamations  which  we  meet 
v/ith  there.  I  remember  in  my  youth  it  was  an  hu- 
mour at  theuniverfity,  when  a  fellow  pretended  to  be 
more  eloquent  than  ordinary,  and  had  formed  to  him- 
felfa  plot  to  gain  ail  our  admiration,  or  triumph  over 
us  with  an  argument,  to  either  of  which  he  had  no 
manner  of  call  ;  I  fay,  in  either  of  thefe  cafes,  it  was 
the  humour  to  fliut  one  eye.  This  whimfical  way  of 
taking-  notice  ta  him  of  his  abfurdity,  has  prevented 
many  a  man  from  being  a  coxcomb.  If  amongfl 
us,  on  fuch  an  occafion,  each  man  offered  a  voluntary 
rhetorician  fome  fnuff,  it  would  probably  produce  the 
lame  efFe61:.  As  the  matter  now  ftands,  whether  a 
man  will  or  not,he  is  obliged  to  be  informed  in  what- 
<iver  another  pleafes  to  entertain  him  with,  though  the 
preceptor  makes  thefe  advances  out  of  vanity,  and  not 
to  inltrudl,  but  infult  him. 

There  is  no  man  will  allow  him  who  wants  cour- 
age, to  be  called  a  good  foldier  ;  but  men  who  want 
good  fenfe  are  very  frequently  not  only  allowed  to  be 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  i6^ 

''  icholars  but  efteemed  for  being  fuch.  At  the  fame 
time  it  muft  be  granted  that  as  courage  is  the  natural 
parts  of  a  foldier,  fo  is  a  good  under  Handing  of  a  fchol- 
ar.  Such  little  minds  as  thefc,  whofe  produdlions  are 
colIe6led  in  a  volume  to  which  I  have  the  honour  to 
be  patron,  are  the  inflruments  for  artful  men  to  work 
with,  and  become  popular  with  the  unthinking  part  o£ 
mankind.  In  courts,  they  make  tranfparent  flatterers  ; 
in  camps,  oftentatious  bullies  ;  in  colleges  unintelligi- 
ble padants  ;  and  their  faculties  are  ufed  accordingly 
by  thofe  who  lead  them. 

When  a  man  who  wants  judgment  is  admitted  into 
the  converfation  of  reafonable  men,  he  (hall  remember 
fuch  improper  circumdanccs,  and  draw  fuch  ground- 
lefs  conciufions  from  their  difcourfe,  and  that  witb 
fuch  colour  of  fenle,  as  would  divide  the  befl  fet  o£ 
company  that  could  be  got  together.  It  is  juft  thus 
with  a  fool  who  has  a  familiarity  with  books  :  Her 
ihall  quote  and  recite  one  author  againfl  another,  in 
fuch  a  manner  as  fhall  puzzle  the  befl  underftanding 
to  refute  him  ;  thougli  the  moft  ordinary  capacity  may; 
c-bferve,  that  it  is  only  ignorance  that  makes  the  intri- 
cacy. AH  the  true  ufe  of  what  we  call  learning  is 
to  enoble  and  improve  our  natural  faculties,  and 
not  to  difguife  our  imperfecSlions.  It  is  therefore 
in  vain  for  folly  to  attempt  to  conceal  itfelf  by  the  ref- 
uge of  learned  language.  Literature  does  but  make 
a  man  more  eminently  the  thing  which  nature  made 
him  ;  and  Pclyglottes^  had  he  ftudied  Icfs  than  he  I\as, 
^nd  writ  only  in  his  mother  tongue,  had  been  knowR 
only  in  Great  Britain  for  a  pedant. 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.   197. 


BLINDNESS. 

y  V  HILE  others  are  bufied  in  relatioifs  which  con- 
cern the  interefts  of  princes,  the  peace  of  nations,  and 
the  revolutions  of  empires,  I  think  (though  thefe  are 
very  great  fubje£ls)  my  theme  of  difcourfe  is  fome- 
times  to  be  of  matters  of  a  much  higher  gonfjderatiQm 


-170  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

The  flow  fleps  of  Providence  and  Nature,  and  ftrangc 

-  CA^ents  which   are    brought  about  in  an  inftant,   are 

what,  as  they  come  within  our  view  and  obfervation, 

Ihall  be  given  to  the  public.     Such  things  arc  not  ac- 

,  companied  with  fliow  and  noife,  and  therefore  feldom 

.  draw  the  eyes  of  the  inattentive  part  of  mankind,  but 

are  very   proper  at  once  to  exercife    our   humanity, 

pleafe  our  imaginations,  and  improve  our  judgments,. 

it  may  not  be  therefore  unufeful  to  relate  many  cir- 

cumftances  which  were  obfervable  upon   a  late  cure 

done  upon  a  young  gentleman  who  was  born  blind, 

and  on   the  2^th  of  June  laft    received  his   fight,  at 

,  the  age  of  twenty  years,   by  the  operation  ef  an  oc- 

.  culift.     This    happened  no  farther  ofF  than    Ne'witig- 

0on ;  and  the  work  was  prepared  for  in   the  following 

.manner : 

The  operator,  Mr.  Grants  having  obferved  the  eyes 
f  of  his  patient,  and  convinced  his  friends  and  relations, 
among  others  the  Reverend  Mr.  Cafwell^  miniflcr  of 
the  place,  that  it  was  highly  probable  he  could  remove 
the  obftacle  which  prevented  the  ufe  of  his  fight.  AH 
his  acquaintance  who  had  any  regard  for  the  young 
inan  or  curiofity  to  be  prefent  when  one  of  full  ngc 
and  underftanding  received  a    new  fenfe,  aflembled 
ihemfelves  on  this  occafion.     Mr.  Cafvcell  being  a  gen- 
tleman particularly  curious,  d^fired  the  whole  compa- 
ny in  cafe  the  blindnefs  fliould  be  curedj  to  keep  fecret, 
and  let  the  patient  make  his  own  obfervations,  without 
the    direction  of  any  thing   he  had  received  by  his 
other  fenfes,  or  the  advantage  of  difcovernig  his  friends 
ijy  their  voices.     Among  feyeral  others,  the  mother, 
Jbrethren,  fifters,  aud  a  young  gentlewoman  for  whom 
he  had  a  paflion,  were  prefent.      The  work  was  per- 
formed with  great  fkill  and  dexterity.     When  the  pa- 
tient firft  received  the  dawn  of  lignt,  there  appeared 
fuch  an  extacy  in  his  a£tion,  that  he    feemed  ready  to 
fwoon  away  in  furprife  of  joy  and  wonder.     The  lur- 
geon  flood  before   him   witn   his   inftruments  in  his 
hands.     The  young  man  obferved  him  from  head  to 
foot ;   after  which  he  furveyed  himfelf  as  carefully, 
,^nd  feemed  to  compare  him. to  himfelf  5  and  obferving 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ift 

both  their  hands,  feemed  to  think  they  were  exactly  ^ 
alike,  except  the  inllruments  which  he  took  for  parts  of 
his  hands.  When  he  had  continued  in  this  amaze- 
ment for  foms  time,  his  mother  could  not  longer  bear 
the  agitations  of  fo  many  paflions  as  thronged  upon 
her  ;■  but  fell  upon  his  neck,  crying  out,  My  Son,  my 
Hon  !  The  youth  knew  her  voice,  and  otould  fpeak  no 
more  than,  O  me  !  are  you  my  mother  ?  and  faint- 
ed. The  whole  room. you  will  eafily  conceive,  were 
very  ajletlionately  employed  in  recovering  him  ;  but 
above  all,  the  young  gentlewoman  who  loved  him,  and 
whom  he  loved,  fliriekcd in  the  loudefl  manner.  That 
voice  feemed  to  have  a  fudden  effedl  upon  him  as  he 
recovered,  and  he  Hiewed  a  double  curiofity  in  obferv- 
ing  her  as  (he  fpoke,  and  called  to  him  ;  till  at  lad  hi:- 
broke  out,  V/hat  has  been  done  to  mc  ?  Whither  am 
1  carried  ?  Is  all  this  about  me  the  thing  I  have  fo  of- 
ten heard  of  ?  Is  this  the  light  ?  Is  this  feeing  ?  Were 
you  always  thus  happy,  when  you  friid  you  were  al- 
ways glad  to  fee  each  other  ?  Wliere  is  Tcm  who  ufed 
to  lead  me  ?  But  I  could  now,  methinks  go  any  where 
without  him.  He  offered  to  move,  but  feemed  afraid 
o-f  every  thing  around  him.  When  they  faw  his  dif- 
ikulty,  they  told  him,  till  he  became  better  acquaint- 
ed with  liis  new  being,  he  mufb  let  the  fervant  ftill 
lead  him.  The  boy  was  called  for  and  prefented  to 
him.  Mr.  Cajhuel/  afked  hirn  what  fort  of  being  he 
tcjok  Tom  to  b'^  before  he  had  feen  him.  He  anfwer--^ 
cd,  he  believed  there  was  not  fo  much  of  him  as  of 
himfelf ;  but  he  fancied  him  the  fame  fort  of  crea- 
ture. The  noife  of  this  fudden  change  made  all  the 
neighbourhood  throng  to  the  place  where  he  was.  As 
he  faw  the  crowd  thickening,  he  defired  Mr.  Ca/weU 
to  tell  him  how  many  there  were  in  all  to  be  feen,^  • 
The  gentleman  fmiling,  anfwered  him,  that  it  would 
be  very  proper  for  him  to  return  to  his  late  condition, 
and  fufier  his  eyes  to  be  covered  till  they  had  received 
ftrength  ♦,  for  he  might  remember  well  enough,  that 
by  degrees  he  had  from  little  and  little  come  to  the 
ibength  he  had  at  prefent,  in  his  ability  of  walking  and  - 
moving  •,  and  that  it  was  the  fame  thing  with  his  eyes^^ 


J  72  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

"which  he  faid  would  lofe  the  power  of  continuing  to. 
him  that  wonderful  tranfport  he  was  now  in,  except 
he  would  be  contented  to  lay  afide  the  ofe  of  them 
lill  they  were  ftrong  enough  to  bear  the  light  without 
io  much  feeling  as  he  knew  he  underwent  at  prefent. 
With  much  reluctance  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  have 
his  eyes  bound,  in  which  condition  they  kept  him  in  a 
dark  room,  till  it  was  proper  to  let  the  organ  receive 
3ts  obje6ls  without  further  precaution.  During  the  time 
of  this  darknefs  he  bewailed  himfelf  in  the  moft  dif- 
irefTed  manner,  and  accufed  all  his  friends,  compl^iin- 
jng  that  fome  incantation  had  been  wrought  upon  him, 
and  fome  ftrange  magic  ufed  to  deceive  him  into  an 
opinion  that  he  had  enjoyed  what  they  call  (ight.  He 
added,  that  the  imprefnons  then  let  in  upon  his  foul 
Vv'ould  certainly  diftradt  him,  if  he  were  not  fo  at 
prefent.  At  another  time  he  would  drive  to  name  the 
perfons  he  had  feen  among  the  crowd  after  he  was 
couched,  and  w©uld  pretend  to  fpeak,  in  perplexed 
ierms  of  his  own  making,  of  v\hat  he  in  that  fliort 
time  obferved.  But  on  the  6th  inftant  it  was  thought 
proper  to  unbind  his  head  ;  and  the  young  woman 
whom  he  loved  was  inflrucled  to  open  his  eyep  ac- 
cordingly, as  well  to  endear  herfelf  to  liim  by  fuch  a 
circumftance  as  to  moderate  his  extacies  by  the  per- 
fuafion  of  a  voice  which  had  fo  much  power  over  him 
as  hers  ever  had..  When  this  beloved  young  woman 
began  to  take  off  the  binding  off  his  eyes,  ilie  talked  to 
feim  as  follows  : 

**  Mr.  William^  I  am  now  taking  the  binding  off; 
though  when  I  confider  what  I  am  doing,  I  tremble 
with  the  apprehenfion,  that  (though  I  have  from  my 
very  childhood  loved  you,  dark  as  you  were,  and 
though  you  had  conceived  fo  ftrong  a  love  for  me, 
yet)  you  will  find  that  there  is  fuch  a  thing  as  Beauty, 
which  may  enfnare  you  into  a  thoufand  pafTions,  of 
which  you  are  now  innocent,  and  take  you  from  me 
forever.  But  before  I  put  myfelf  to  that  hazard,  tell 
me  in  what  manner  that  love  you  always  profeffed  to 
me,  ever  entered  into  your  heart  j  for  its  ufual  admif- 
fiou  is  at  the  eyes." 


ADDISQN'IAN  MISCELLANY.  173 

The  young  man  anfwered/  "Dear  £>><//«,  if '  I  am 
to  loie  my  fight,  the  foft  pantings  which  I  have  always 
feh-  when  I  heard  your  voice  ;  if  I  am  no  more  to  dif- 
tingui{h  the  flep  or  her  I  love  when  fhe  approaches 
me,  but  to  change  that  fweet  and  frequent  pleafure 
for  fuch  an  amazement  as  I  knew  the  Httle  time  I  late- 
ly faw  ;  or,  If  I  am  to  have  any  thing  befides  whicli 
may  take  from  me  the  fenfe  I  have  of  what  appeared 
moll  pleafing  to  me  at  that  time  (which  apparition  it: 
feems  was  you)  pull  out  thefe  eyes  before  they  kad  mc 
to  be  ungrateful  to  you  or  unto  myfelf.  I  wifli  for 
them  but  to  fee  you  ;  pull  thena  out,  if  they  are  to 
make  me  forget  you." 

Lyc/ia  was  extremely  fatisfied  with  thefe  aflurances., 
and  pleafed  herfelf  with  playing  with  his  perplexities. 
In  all  his  talk  to  her,  he  Inewed  but  very  faint  ideas  o£ 
any  tiling  which  had  not  been  received  at  the  ears, 
and  clofed  his  proteltations  to  her  by  faying,  that  i£ 
he  Vv'ere  to  fee  Falentia  and  Barcelona  whom  he  fuppof- 
ed  the  moft  efteemed  of  all  women,'  by  the  quarrel 
there  was  about  them,  he  would  never  like  any  other 
but  Lydia, 

Tatler^-VoI.  ILNa55/ 


BOOKS. 

RISTOTLE  tells  us,  that  the  world  is  a  copy  ef 
tranfcript  of  thofe  ideas  which  are  in  the  mind  of  the 
firil  being  *,  and  that  thofe  ideas  which  are  in  the  mind 
of  in;in,  are  a  tranfcript  of  the  world.  To  this  we 
may  add,  that  words  are  the  tranfcript  of  thofe  ideas 
whi'ch  are  in  the  mind  of  man,  and  that  writing  oc 
printing  are  <-he  tranfcript  of  words. 

As  the  Supreme  Being  has  exprefled,  and  as  it  were 
printed  his  ideas  in  the  creation,  men  exprefs  their  ideas 
in  books,  which  by  the  great  invention  of  thefe  latter 
ages  may  laft  as  long  as  tlie  fon  and  moon,  and  periih 
only  in  the  wreck  ofnature.  Thus  Co^ley^  in  his  po- 
em on  the  refurredlion,  mentioning  the  deitruftiot*  c£ 
the  univerfe,  has  thofe  admirable  lines  ; 


174  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

I 


iVIp^l;  all  the  nvide  extended  Jky^ 

And  all  the  harmonious  nxorlds  on  highy 

And  VirgilV  /acred  works ,  Jhall  die. 


There  is  no  other  mclhod  of  fixhig  thofe  thought* 
which  arife  and  difappear  in  the  mind  of  man,  and 
tranfmitting  them  to  the  laft  period  of  tim.e  •,  no  other 
method  of  giving  permanency  to  our  ideas,  and  pre- 
ferving  the  knowledge  of  any  particular  perfon,  when 
his  body  is  mixed  with  the  common  mafs  of  matter^ 
and  his  foul  retired  into  the  world  of  fpirits.  Books 
are  the  legacies  that  a  great  genius  leaves  to  mankind, 
■which  are  delivered  down  from  generation  to  gene- 
ration, as  prefents  to  the  pofterity  of  thofe  who  are 
_yet  unborn. 

All  other  arts  of  perpetuating  our  ideas  continue  but 
a  fliort  time.  Statues  can  laft  but  a  few  thoufand  of 
jears,  edifices  fewer,  and  colours  ftill  fewer  than  ed~ 
ifices.  Michael  Angelo^  Fontana^  and  Rafhael^  will  here- 
after be  what  Phidias^  Fitru^ius,  and  Appelles^  are  at 
prefent  j  the  names  of  great  ftatuaries,  architects,  and 
painters,  whofe  works  are  loft.  The  feveral  arts  are 
cxprefled  in  mouldering  materials  :  Nature  finks  un- 
«der  them,  and  is  not  able  to  fupport  the  ideas  whicb 
are  imprefled  upon  it. 

The  circumftance  which  gives  authors  an  advantage 
above  all  thofe  great  mafters,  is  this  *,  that  they  can 
multiply  their  originals,  or  rather  can  make  copies  of 
their  works,  to  what  number  they  pleafe,  which  fliall 
te  as  valuable]|as  the  originals  themfelves.  This  gives 
a  great  author  fomething  like  a  profpeti:  of  eternity, 
but  at  the  fame  time  deprives  him  of  thofe  other  ad- 
vantages which  artifts  meet  with.  The  artift  finds- 
greater  returns  in  profit,  as  the  author  in  fame.  What 
an  ineftimable  price  would  a  Firgil,  or  a  Homer ^  a 
Ciceroi  or  an  Arijlotk  bear,  were  their  works,  like  a  ftat- 
ue,  a  building,  or  a  pi<Slure,  to  be  confined  only  in  one 
place,  and  made  the  property  of  a  fingle  perfon  ! 

If  writings  are  thus  durable,  and  may  pafs  from  age 
to  age  throughout  the  whole  courfe  of  time,  how 
wrcful  finQuId  au  author  be  gf  committing  any  thing 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  175 

to  print  that  may  corrupt  pofterlty,  and  poifon  the 
minds  of  men  with  vice  and  error  !  Writers  of  great 
talents,  who  employ  their  parts  in  propagating  immo- 
rality and  feafoning  vicious  fentimcnts  with  wit  and 
humour,  are  to  be  locked  upon  as  the  pcfts  of  fociety, 
and  the  enemies  of  mankind.  They  leave  books  be- 
hind them  (as  it  is  faid  of  thofe  who  die  in  dillem- 
pers  which  breed  an  ill-will  towards  tlieir  own  fpe- 
cies)  to  fcatter  infe6lion,  and  dellroy  their  poTierity. 
They  a6t  the  counterparts  of  a  Confucius  or  a  Socrates, 
and  feem  to  have  been  fent  into  the  w'orld  to  de- 
prave human  nature,  and  fmk  it  into  the  condition  of 
brutality. 

I  have  fecn  fome  Roman  Catholic  authors  who  tell 
us  that  vicious  v/riters  continue  in  purgatory,  fo  long 
as  the  influence  of  their  writings  continues  upon  pos- 
terity. For  purgatory,  fay  they,  is  nothing  clfe  but 
a  cleanGng  us  of  our  fins,  which  cannot  be  faid  to 
be  done  away  fo  long  as  they  continue  to  operate  and 
corrupt  mankind.  The  vicious  author,  fay  they,  fms 
after  death  ;  and  fo  long  as  he  continues  to  fin,  fo 
long  mufl  he  expert  to  be  puniflied.  Though  the 
Roman  Catholic  notion  of  purgatory  be  indeed  very 
ridiculous,  one  cannot  but  think  that  if  the  foul,  af- 
ter death,  has  any  knowledge  of  what  paflcs  in  this 
world,  that  of  an  immoral  writer  would  receive 
much  more  regret  from  the  ftnfe  of  corrupting,  than 
fatiofaclion  from  the  thought  of  plenfinghis  furviving 
admirers. 

To  take  off  from  the  fcveiity  of  this  fpeculation,  I 
fhall  conclude  this  paper  with  the  ftory  of  an  athcilti- 
cal  author,  who  at  a  time  when  he  lay  dangeroufly 
fick,  and  liud  defired  the  afhftance  of  a  neighbouring- 
Curate,  confelTcd  to  him  with  great  contriuon,  that 
nothing  fat  mere  heavy  at  his  heart,  tlian  tlie  fenfe  of 
his  having  feduced  the  age  by  his  writings,  and  that 
their  evil  influence  was  Ukely  to  continue  after  death. 
The  Curate,  upon  farther  examination,  finding  the 
penitent  in  the  utmoit  agonies  of  defpair,  and  bein? 
himfelf  a  man  of  learning,  told  him  that  he  hoped  his 
cafe  was  not  fo  dcfperate  as  he  apprehended,  fince  hz 


176  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY, 

found  that  he  was  (o  very  fenfible  of  his  fault,  and  fo 
fnioerely  repented  of  it.  The  penitent  ftill  urged  the 
evil  tendency  of  his  book  to  fubvert  all  religion,  and 
the  little  ground  of  hope  there  could  be  for  one  whofe 
writings  would  continue  to  do  mifchief  when  his  body 
was  laid  in  aihes.  The  Curate,  finding  no  other  way 
to  comfort  him,  told  him  that  he  did  well  in  being  a^* 
flicted  for  the  evil  defign  with  which  he  publiflied  his 
book,  but  that  he  ougfit  to  be  very  thankful  that  there 
was  no  danger  of  its  doing  any  harm  ;  that  his  caufe 
was  fo  very  bad,  and  his  arguments  fo  weak,  that  he 
did  not  apprehend  any  ill  eftecls  from  it  j  in  fliortthat 
he  might  rtit  fatisfied  his  book  could  do  no  more  mif- 
chief after  his  death,  than  it  had  done  whilfl  he  was 
living..  To  which  he  added,  for  his  farther  fatisfac- 
tion,  that  he  did  not  believe  any  befides  his  particular 
friends  and  acquaintance  had.  ever  been  at  the  pains  of 
reading  it,  or  that  any  body  after  his  death  would  ever 
inquire  after  it.  The  dying  man  ha«i  ftill  fo  much  the 
fmilty  of  an  author  in  Him,  as  to  be  cut  to  the  heart 
with  thefe  confoJations  ;  and  without  anfwering  the 
good  man,  afi^ed  his  friends  about  him  (with  a  peevifh- 
nefs  that  is  natural  to  a  iick  perfon)  where  they  had 
picked  up  fuch  a  blockhead  •,  and  whether  they  thought 
him  a  proper  perfon  to  attend  one  in  his  condition: 
The  Curate  finding  that  the  author  <iid  not  expedl  to 
be  dealt  with  as  a  real  and  fincere  penitent,  but  as  a 
penitent  of  importa»ce,  after  a  faort  admonition  with- 
drew, not  quellioning  but  he  iliould  be  a^ain  fent  for, 
if  the  fickncfs  grew  defpcrate.  The  author  however 
recovered,  and  has  fince  written  two  or  three  other 
trades  with  the  fame  fpirit,  and,  very  luckily  for  his 
poor  foul,  with  the  fame  fuccefs. 

Spectator,  Vol.  II.  No.  i66.  C^ 


BUSY  PART  t/  the  World. 

^, ^^ANKIND  is  divided  into  two  parts,  the  Bufy 
and  the  Idle.  The  Bufy  world  may  be  divided  into 
the  virtuous  and  the  vicious ;  the  vicious  again  inta 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         177 

the  covetous,  the  ambitious,  and  the  fenfual.  The 
idle  part  of  mankind  are  in  a  date  inferior  to  any  of 
thefe.  Ail  the  other  are  engaged  in  the  purfuil  of 
happincfs,  though  often  mjfplaced,  and  are  therefore 
more  likely  to  he  attentive  to  fuch  means  as  fnall  be 
propofed  to  them  foi  that  end.  The  idle,  who  are 
neither  v/ife  for  this  world  nor  the  next,  are  emphatical- 
ly called  by  Dr.  Tdlotfon^  fools  at  large  ;  they  propofe 
to  thcmfclvcs  no  end,  but  run  adrift  with  every  wind. 
Advice  would  tlierefore  be  only  thrown  away  upon 
them,  fincc  they  would  fcarce  take  the  pains  to  read  it. 
I  fliali  not  fcitipue  any  of  this  worthlefs  tribe  with  a 
large  Iiarrar.gue,  but  will  leave  them  with  thisfliort  fay- 
ing of  Fl.iio  J  that  labrur  is  preferable  to  idUnefsy  as  bright' 
nejs  to  rujl. 

The  purfuits  of  the  aclive  part  of  mankind  are  either 
In  the  paths  of  religion  and  virtue  ;  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  the  roads  to  wealth,  honour,  or  plcafure.  I 
fliall  therefore  compare  the  purfuits  of  Avarice,  Am- 
bition, and  fenfual  Delight,  with  their  oppofite  vir- 
tues ;  and  ftiall  confider  which  of  thefe  principles  en- 
gages men  in  a  courfe  of  the  greateft  labour,  fuifering, 
and  affiduity.  MoO;  men  in  their  cool  leafoning,  are 
willing  to  allow  that  a  courfe  of  virtue  will  in  the  end 
be  rewarded  the  mod  amply,  but  reprefent  the  way  to 
it  as  rugged  and  narrow.  If  therefore  it  can  be  made 
to  appear,  that  men  llrugglc  through  as  many  troubles 
to  be  miferable  as  they  do"  to  be  happy,  my  readers  may 
perhaps  be  perfuaded  to  be  good  when  they  hnd  they 
Ihall  lofe  nothing  by  it. 

Firft,  for  A-vnrlce.  The  Mifcr  is  more  induftrlous 
than  the  Saint  •,  the  pains  of  getting,  the  fears  of  iof- 
ing,  and  the  inability  of  enjoyed  his  wealth,  have  been 
the  mark  of  fatire  in  all  ages.  "Were  his  repentance 
upon  his  negle6t  of  a  good  bargain,  his  forrow  for  be- 
ing over-reached,  his  hope  of  improving  a  fum,  and 
his  fear  of  falling  into  want,  directed  to  their  proper 
obie£ls,  they  would  make  fo  many  diRxrent  Chrijiian 
graces  and  virtues.  He  may  apply  to  himfelf  a  great 
part  of  5"^.  Pcui's  catalogue  of  fafferings  ;  in  journeying 
often  ;  in  terils  of  ivatsrsy  in  perils  cf  rchbers^  in  perils  amo^ig 


178  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLAN  Y. 

falfe  brethren  ;  in  fv:earir.efs  and pai>ifulnefs^  in  tvatchingr 
often y  in  hunger  and thirji^  in  fajiings  often, — At  how  muclv 
1  ti^  expence  might  he  lay  up  to  hitnfelf  treaftires  in  Hea^ven! 
or,  if  I  may  in  this  place  be  allowed  to  add  the  faying, 
of  a  great  phiiofophcr,  he  may  pro'vide  fuch  pcfejjtons  as 
fear  neither  arms  nor  Tnen,  fwr  Jove  himfelf 

In  the  fecond  place,  if  we  look  upon  the  toils  of  Am-; 
bition  in  the  fame  light  as  we  have  confidered  thofe  of 
Avarice,  we  (liall  readily  own  that  far  lefs  trouble  is- 
requifite  to  gain  lading  glory,  than  the  power  and  re- 
putation of  a  few  years  •,  or  in  other  words,  we  may 
with  more  eafe  defervc  honour  than  obtain  it.  The 
ambitious  man  fliould  remember  Cardinal  Wolfey's  com- 
pJaint  ;  *'Had  I  fervcd  God  with  the  fame  application 
wherewith  I  ferved  my  King,  he  would  not  have  for- 
laken  me  in  my  old  age."  The  Cardinal  here  foftens- 
his  Ambition  by  the  fpecious  pretence  of  ferving  his-. 
King  :  whereas  his  words,  in  the  proper  conftrudion, 
imply,  that  if,  inflead  of  being  acted  by  Ambition,  he 
had  been  a6ledby  Religion,  he  Tnould  have  now  found 
the  ccrr.lbrts  of  it,  when  the  whole  world  turned  its- 
back  upon  him. 

thirdly.  Let  US  Compare  the  pains  of  the  fenfual 
with  thofe  of  the  virtuous,  and  fee  which  are  heavier  >' 
in  the  balance.  It  may  feem  flrange  at  the  fir  ft  view, 
that  the  men  of  pleafure  fliculd  be  advifed  to  change 
their  courfe,  bccaufe  they  lead  a  painful  life.  Yet 
when  we  fee  them  fo  adtive  and  vigilant  in  quefl  of 
delight,  under  fo  many  difquiets,  and  the  fport  of  fuch 
various  palhons,  let  them  anfwer, as  they  can,  if  the. 
pains  they  undergo  do  not  overweigh  their  enjoyments. 
The  infidelities  on  the  one  part  between  the  two  fexes, 
and  the  caprices  on  the  other,  the  debafement  of  rea- 
fon,  the  pangs  of  expectation,  the  difappointments  in^ 
pojTeflionSj  the  ftings  of  remorfe,  tlie  vanities  and  vex- 
ations attending  even  the  moft  refined  delights  that 
make  up  this  bufinefs  of  life,  render  it  fo  filly  and  un- 
comfortable, that  no  man  is  thought  v.'ife  till  he  has 
got  over  it,  or  happy,  but  in  proportion  as  he  has  clear- 
ed himfelf  from  it. 

The  fum  of  all  is   this. — Man  is   made   an  a£tivc  ^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  179 

Being  :  Whether  he  walks  in  the  paths  of  virtue  or 
vice,  he  is  fure  to  meet  with  many  diinculties,  to  prove 
his  patience,  and  excite  his  indultry.  The  fame,  if 
not  greater  labour,  is  required  in  the  fervice  of  vice  and 
folly,  as  of  virtue  and  wifdom.  And  he  has  this  eafy 
choice  left  him,  whether  with  the  ilrength  he  is  mailer 
of,  he  will  purchafe  happinefs  or  repentance. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VIII.  No.  624. 


CALAMITIES. 

,T  is  a  very  melancholy  reflection,  that  men  are  ufu- 
ally  fo  weak,  that  it  is  abfolutely  neceil-iry  for  them  to 
.know  forrow  and  pain,  to  be  in    their   right    fenfes. 
'Profperous  people  (for  happy  there  are  none)  are  hur- 
ried away  with  a  fond  fenfe  of  tlieir  prcfent  condition, 
,  and  thoughtlefs  of  the  mutability  of  fortune.     Fortune 
is  a  term  which  we  mult  ufeln  fuch  difcourfes  as  thefe 
^for  what  is  wrought  by  the  unfeen  hand  of  the  Difpo- 
fer  of  all  things.     But  methinks  the  difpofition  of  a 
mind  which  is  truly  great,  is  that  which  makes  misfor- 
tunes and  forrows  little  when   they    befall   ourfelvcs, 
.great  and  lamentable  when  they  befall  other  men. 

The  mod  unpardonable  malefadlor  in  the  world, 
going  to  his  »leath,  and  bearing  it  with  compofure, 
would  win  the  pity  of  thofe  who  fliould  behold  kim  ; 
and  this  not  becauie  his  calamity  is  deplorable,  but  be- 
caufe  he  feems  himfeif  not  to  deplore  it.  We  fufFer 
for'him  who  is  lefs  fenfible  of  his  own  mifery,  and  are 
inclined  to  defpife  him  who  finks  under  the  weight  of 
his  diftrefles.  On  the  other  hand,  without  any  touch 
of  envy,  a  temperate  and  well-governed  mind  looks 
.down  on  fuch  as  are  exalted  with  fuccefs,  with  a  cer- 
tain fliame  for  the  imbecility  of  human  nature,  that 
can  fo  far  forget  how  liable  it  is  to  calamity,  as  to  grow 
giddy  with  only  the  fufpence  of  forrow,  which  is  the 
portion  of  all  men.  He  therefore  who  turns  his  face 
trom  the  unhappy  man,  who  M'ill  not  look  again  when 
his  eye  is  call  upon  modeft  forrow,  who  Iliuns  afflic- 
lion  like  contagion,  does  but  pamper  himfeif  up  for  a 


i8»         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

facrifice,  and  contraft  in'himfeif  a  greater  aptitude  to 
mifery,  by  attempting  to  efcape  it.  A  geritieman, 
'^\'here  I  happened  to  oe  laft  night,  fell  into  a  dircourfe 
which  I  thought  (hewed  a  good  difeerning  in  him  : 
He  took  notice,  that  whenever  men  have  looked  into 
their  hearts  for  the  idea  of  true  excellency,  in  human 
nature,  they  have  found  it  confift  in  fufftring  after  a 
right  manner,  and  with  a  good  grace.  Heroes  are  al- 
ways drawn  bearing  forrows,  llruggling  with  adverfi- 
ties,  undergoing  all  kinds  of  hardfhips,  and  having  in  ' 
the  fervice  of  mankind  a  kind  of  appetite  to  difficulties 
and  dangers.  The  gentleman  went  ^  on  to  obferve, 
that  it  is  from  thisfecretfenfe  of  the  high  merit  which 
there  is  in  patience  under  calamities,  that  the  writers 
of  romances^  when  they  attempt  to  f urniflr  out  char- 
a«Slers  of  the  higheft  excellence,  ranfack  nature  for 
things  terrible ;  they  raife  a  new  creation  of  monflers, 
dragons,  and  giants  ;  where  the  danger  ends,  the  hero 
ceafes  ;  when  he  has  won  an  empiie,  or  gained  his 
miftrefs,  the  reft  of  his  fiery  is  not  worth  relating. 
My  friend  carried  his  difcourfe  fo  far  as  to  fay,  that  it 
was  for  higher  beings  than  men  to  join  happinefs  and 
greatnefs  in  the  fam.e  idea  •,  but  that  in  our  condition 
•wp  have  no  conception  of  fuperlative  excellence  or  he- 
roifm,  but  as  it  is  furrcunded  with  a  fnade  of  diftrefs. 

It  is  certainly  the  proper  education  we  fliould  give 
ourfelves,  to  be  prepared  for  the  ill  events  and  acci- 
dents we  are  to  meet  with  in  a  life  fentenced  to  be  a 
fcene  of  forrow  .:  But  inllead  of  this  expeclation,  we 
foften  ourfelves  with  profpects  of  conitant  delight, 
and  deltroy  in  our  minds  the  feeds  of  fortitude  and 
virtue,  which  flioukl  fupport  us  in  hours  of  anguifli. 
The  conftant  purfuit  of  pleafure  has  in  it  fomething 
infolent  and  improper  for  our  being.  There  is  a  pret- 
ty fober  livelinefs  in  the  Ode  of  Ibrace  to  Delius^ 
where  he  tells  him  loud  mirth  or  immoderate  forrow, 
inequality  of  behaviour  either  in  profperity  or  adverfi- 
ty,  are  ahke  ungraceful  in  man  who  is  born  to  die. 

Moderation  in  both  circumftances  is  peculiar  to  ge- 
nerous minds.  Men  of  that  fort  ever  taile  the  gratifi- 
cations of  health,  au4  all,  other  adviiiita^es  of  life,  as  if 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  i$i 

they  were  liabk  to  part  with  them  ;  and  when  bereft 
of  them,  refign  them  with  a  greatnefs  of  mind  which 
Iho'vvs  they  know  their  value  and  duration.  The  con- 
tempt of  pleafure  is  a  certain  preparatory  for  the  con- 
tempt of  pain  :  Without  this  the  mind  is,  as  it  were, 
taken  fuddenly  by  an  unforefeen  event ;  but  he  who 
hns  always,  daring  health  and  profperity,  been  abfti- 
nent  in  his  fatisfaJtions,  enjoys,  in  the  worfl  of  difE-. 
cuitier,,  the  reflection,  that  his  anguifli  is  not  aggrava- 
ted with  the  comparifon  of  pad  pleafures  which  up- 
braid his  prefent  condition. 

^lully  tells  us  a  ilory  of  Pompey,  v/hich  gives  us  a 
good  tafte  of  tlie  pleatant  manner  the  men  of  wit  and 
philofophy  had  in  old  times  of  alleviating  the  diftreiTes 
of  life,  by  the  force  of  reafon  and  philofophy.  Pompej 
when  he  came  to  Rhodes,  h-didi  a  curiofity  to  vifit  the  fa- 
mous philofopher  PoJJidonius  \  but  finding  him  in  his 
Tick  bed,  he  bewailed  the  misfortune  that  he  (hould 
not  hear  a  difcourfe  from  him.  But  you  may,  an- 
fwered  Poffidonius^  and  immediately  entered  into  the 
point  of  Stoical  philofophy,  which  fays,  pain  is  not  an 
evil.  During  the  difcourfe,  upon  every  pundlure  he 
felt  from  his  diflemper,  he  fmiled  and  cried  out,  Pi*ln, 
pain,  be  as  impertinent  and  troub^efome  as  you  pleafe^ 
I  never  fhall  own  thou  art  an  evil. 

Spectator,  Vol.  IV.  No.  312.  T. 


I 


CMLIK—Her  Hijicry. 


r  is  not  necefTary  to  look  back  into  the  firft  years 
of  this  young  lady,  whofe  ftory  is  of  confequence,  on- 
ly as  her  life  has  lately  met  with  palTagcs  very  uncom- 
mon. She  is  now  in  the  twentieth  year  of  her  age, 
and  owes  a  ftri6l  but  cheerful  education  to  the  care 
of  an  aunt,  to  whom  flie  was  recommended  by  her  dy- 
ing father,  whofe  deceafe  was  haflened  by  an  incon- 
folable  afHidion  for  the  lofs  of  her  mother.  As  Caliit 
is  the  offspring  of  the  moft  generous  paiTion  that  has 
been  known  in  our  age,  Ihe  is  adorned  with  as  muck 
beauty  and  grage  as  the  moft  celebrated  of  her  fex  pof- 


i82        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

fcfs  ;  but  her  domeflic  life,  moderate  fortune,  and  re- 
ligious education,  gave  her  but  little  opportunity,  and 
lefs  inclination,  to  be  admired  in  public  aflemblies. 
Her  abode  has  been  for  fome  years  at  a  convenient  dif- 
tance  from  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's^  where  her  aunt 
and  fhe  chofe  to  refide,  for  the  advantage  of  that  rap- 
turous way  of  devotion  which  gives  extacy  to  the  plea- 
sures of  innocence,  and  in  fome  meafure  is  the  imme- 
^liate  poiTeffion  of  thofe  heavenly  enjoyments  for  which 
they  are  addre^ed. 

As  you  may  trace  the  ufual  thoughts  of  men  in  their 
countenances,  there  appeared  in  the  face  of  Calia  a  ; 
cheerfulnefs,  the  conffcant  companion  of  unaffected  | 
virtue,  and  a  gladnefs  which  is  as  infeparable  from  I 
true  piety.  Her  every  look  and  motion  fpoke  the 
peaceful,  mild,  refigning,  humble  inhabitant  that  ani- 
mated her  beauteous  body.  Her  air  difcovered  her 
body  a  mere  machine  of  her  mind,  and  not  that  her 
thoughts  were  employed  in  fludying  graces  and  at- 
tradlions  for  her  perfon.  Such  wns  Ccelia  v/hen  (lie 
was  firft  feen  by  Palamede^  at  her  ufual  place  of  worfhip. 
Talamede  is  a  young  man  of  twenty-two,  w  ell-fa fliion- 
cd,  learned,  genteel,  and  difcreet  5  the  fen  and  heir  of 
a  gentleman  of  a  very  great  eftate,  and  himfelf  pcfiefT- 
cd  of  a  plentiful  one  by  the  gift  of  an  uncle.  He  be- 
came enamoured  with  Calia  \  and  after  having  learn- 
ed her  habitation,  had  addrefs  enough  to  communi- 
cate his  paiTion  and  circumftances  with  fuch  an  air  of 
good  fenfe  and  integrity,  as  foon  obtained  permiffion 
,to  vifit  and  profefs  his  inclinations  towards  her.  Palw 
mede^  prefent  fortune  and  future  expectations  were  no 
way  prejudicial  to  his  addreiTes  •,  but  after  the  levers 
had  pafled  fometime  in  the  agreeable  entertainment  of 
a  fuccefsful  courtfhip,  Calia  one  day  took  occafion  to 
interrupt  Palamede  in  the  midft  of  a  very  pleafing  dif- 
courfe  of  the  happinefs  he  promifed  himfelf  in  fo  ac- 
compliihed  a  companion,  and  alTuming  a  feiious  air, 
told  him,  there  was  another  heart  to  be  won  before  he 
gained  hers,  which  was  that  of  his  father.  Palamede 
feemed  much  difturbed  at  the  overture,  and  lamented 
^to  her,  that  his  father  vras  one  of  thofe  too  provident 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  183- 

pnrents  who  only  place  their  thoughts  upon  bringing 
riches  into  their  families  by  marriages,  and  are  wholly 
infenfible  of  all  other  confiderations.  But  the  ftricl- 
nefs  of  Ccclias  rules  of  life  made  her  infiil  upon  this 
demand  :  and  the  fon,  at  a  proper  hour,  communica- 
ted to  his  father  the  circumltances  of  his  love,  and  the 
merit  of  the  objsft.  The  next  day  the  father  made  her 
a  vifit.  The  beauty  of  her  perfon,  the  fame  of  her 
virtue,  and  a  certain  irrefiftible  charm  in  her  whole  be- 
haviour on  fo  tender  and  delicate  an  occafion,  wrought 
fo  much  upon  him,  in  fpite  of  all  prcpolleffions,  that 
he  haftened  the  marriage  with  an  impatience  equal  to 
that  of  his  fon.  Their  nuptials  were  celebrated,  with 
a  privacy  fuitable  to  the  chara6ler  and  m.odefty  of  Cce^ 
lia  ;  and  from  that  day,  until  a  fatal  one  lall  week, 
they  lived  together  with  all  the  joy  and  happinefs 
which  attended  minds  entirely  united. 

It  lliould  have  been  intimated,  that  Palamede  is  a  flu-  ' 
dent  of  the  Temple,  and  ufually  retired  thither  early  in  - 
the  morning,  C\elia  ftill  fleeping. 

It  happened  a  few  days  fince,  that  ihe  followed  him 
thither  to  communicate  to  him  fomething  flie  had 
omitted  in  her  redundant  fondnefs  to  fpeak  of  the  eve- 
ning before.  When  (lie  came  to  his  apartment,  the 
fervant  there  told  her,  {he  was  coming  with  a  letter  to 
her.  Y/hile  Calia,  in  an  inner  room,  was  reading  an 
apology  from  her  hufband,  that  he  had  been  fuddenly 
taken  by  fome  of  his  acquaintance  to  dine  at  Brentford^ 
but  that  he  fliould  retvirn  in  the  evening,  a  country 
girl,  decently  clad,  afked  if  thefe  were  not  the  cham« 
bers  of  Mr.  Palamede :  She  was  anfwered,  they  wereyt- 
but  that  he  was  not  in  town.  The  ftranger  alked  when 
he  was  expe£led  home  :  The  fervant  replied,  fhe  would 
go  in  and  ailc  his  wife.  The  young  woman  repeated 
the  word  wife,  and  fainted.  This  accident  railed  no 
lefs  curiofity  than  amazement  in  dclia^  who  caufed  her 
to  be  removed  into  the  inner  room.  Upon  proper  ap- 
plications to  revive  her,  the  unhappy  young  creature 
returned  to  herfelf,  and  faid  to  delta,  with  an  earnelt 
and  befeeching  tone,  are  you  really  Mr.  Palamedis 
wife  ?  Calia  replies,  "  I  hope   I  do  not  look  as  if  I 


184         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

were  any  other,  in  the  condition  you  fee  mc."  The 
ftranger  anfwered,  **  No,  madam,  he  is  my  hufband  :** 
At  the  fame  initant  {he  threw  a  bundle  of  letters  into' 
Calia's  lap,  which  confirmed  the  truth  of  what  flie  af- 
ferted.  Their  mutual  innocence  and  forrow  made 
them  look  at  each  other  as  partners  in  diftrefs,  rather 
than  rivals  in  love.  The  fuperiority  of  Ccslias  under- 
^landing  and  genius,  gave  her  an  authority  to  examine 
into  this  adventure,  as  if  {lie  had  been  offended;,  and  the 
other  the  delinquent.  The  flranger  fpoke  in  the  fol-- 
iowing  manner  : 

"  Madam,  if  it  fhall  pleafe  you,  Mr.  Talamede  having 
an  uncle  of  a  good  eftate  near  WinchejUr^  was  bred  up 
at  the  fchool  there,  to  gain  the  more  of  his  good-will 
by  being  in  his  fight.  His  uncle  died,  and  left  him  the 
eitate,  which  my  hu{band  now  has.  When  he  was  a 
mere  youth,  he  let  his  affections  on  me  ;  but  when  he 
could  not  gain  his  ends,  he  married  me  ;  making  me 
and  my  mother,  who  is  a  farmer's  widov/,  fwear  we 
v^ould  never  tcil  it  upon  any  account  whatfoever,  for 
that  it  would  not  look  well  for  him  to  marry  fuch  an 
one  as  me  j  befides  that  his  father  would  cut  him  off 
of  the  eflate.  I  was  glad  to  have  him  in  an  honeft  way, 
and  he  now  and  then  came  and  flaid  a  night 
at  our  houfe.  But  very  lately  he  came  down  to  fee 
us,  with  a  fine  young  gentleman,  his  friend,  who  ftaid 
behind  there  with  us,  pretending  to  like  the  place  for 
the  fummer  *,  but  ever  fince  mailer  Falamede  went,  he 
has  attempted  to  abufe  me,  and  I  ran  hither  to  acquaint 
him  with  it,  and  avoid  the  wicked  intentions  of  his 
falfe  friend.'* 

Calia  had  no  farther  room  for  doubt,  but  left  her 
rival  in  the  fame  agonies  fhe  felt  herfelf.  Palamcde  re- 
turns in  the  evening,  and  finding  his  wife  at  his  cham- 
bers, learned  all  that  had  pafied,  and  haftened  to  C^//a's 
lodgings. 

It  is  much  eafier  to  imagine  than  exprefs  the  fentl- 
ments  of  either  the  criminal  or  the  injured  at  this  en- 
counter. As  foon  as  Palamede  had  found  way  for 
fpeech,  he  confefTed  his  marriage,  and  his  placing  his 
C<?iiipanion  on  purpofe  to  vitiate  his  wife,  that  he  might 


ADDISONIAN    MISCELLANY.         185 

break  through  a  marriage  made  in  his  nonage,  and 
devote  his  riper  and  knowing  years  to  C^/^Vz.  She 
made  him  no  anfwer,  but  retired  to  her  tloicT.  He 
returned  to  the  temple,  where  he  foon  after  iccer-.sd 
from  her  the  followmg  letter  : 

Sir, 

YOU,  who  this  morning  were  the  befl,  are  now 
the  worfl  of  men  who  breathe  the  vital  air.  I  am  at 
once  ovcrv/helmed  with  love,  hatred,  rage,  and  dif- 
dain.  Can  infamy  and  innocence  live  together  ?  I 
feci  the  weight  of  the  one  too  ftrong  for  the  comfort 
of  the  other.  How  bitter.  Heaven,  how  bitter  is  my 
portion  !  How  much  have  I  to  fay  !  But  the  infant 
which  I  bear  about  me,  ftirs  with  my  agitation.  I  am, 
PalameJe,  to  live  in  fliame,  and  this  creature  to  be 
heir  to  it.     Farewell  for  ever. 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.  i9». 


I 


CATO— Tr^^^^  of. 


have  made  it  a  rule  to  myfelf  not  to  publifli  any- 
thing on  a  Saturday^  but  what  fliall  have  fome  analogy 
to  the  duty  of  the  day  enfuing.  It  is  an  unfpeakable 
'pleafure  to  me,  chat  I  have  lived  to  fee  the  time  when 
I  can  obfefve  fuch  a  law  to  myfelf  and  yet  turn  my 
difcourfe  upon  what  is  done  at  the  play-houfe.  I  am 
fure  the  reader  knows  I  am'going  to  mention  the  trage- 
dy of  Cato.  The  principal  charadler  is  moved  by  no 
con fi deration,  but  refpecl  to  that  fort  of  virtue,  the 
fenfe  of  which  is  retained  in  our  language  under  the 
\\'oxA?> public  fplr it.  All  regards  to  what  is  domeftic  are 
wholly  laid  afide,  and  the  hero  is  drawn  as  having  by 
this  m.otive  fubdued  inftinft  itfelf,  and  taking  com- 
fort from  the  diftreiTes  of  his  family,  which  are  brought 
upon  them  by  their  adherence  to  caufe  of  truth  and 
liberty.  There  is  nothing  uttered  by  CatOy  but  what 
is  worthy  o£the  bed  of  men;  and  the  fentiments 
which  arc  given  him,  are  not  only  the  moft  warm  for 
0^3 


18.(5  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

the  condudi  of  this  life,  but  fuch   as  we  may  think; 
need  not  be  erafed,  but  confift  with  the  happinefs  o£ 
the  human  foul  in  the  next.     This  illuftrious  charac- 
ter has  its  proper  influence  on  all  below  it.     The  oth- 
er virtuous  perfonages  are,  in  their  degree,  as  worthy 
and  as  exemplary  as  the  principal.  The  conduft  of  the 
lovers  (who  are  more  warm  though  more  difcreet  than 
ever  yet  appeared  upon  the  ftage)  has   in  it  a  conftant 
fenfe  of   the  great   cataftrophe   which  was  expected 
from  the  approach  of  Cafar.     But  to  fee  the  modefty 
of  an  heroine,  whofe  country  and  family  were  at  the 
fame  time    in  the  mofh  imminent   danger,  preferved, 
whilfl:  fhe  breaks  out  into  the  moil  fond  and  open  ex- 
preflions  of  her  paffion  for  her  lover,  is  an  inilancc  of 
Tio  common  addrefs.     Again  to   obferve  the  body  of 
2  gallant  young   man  brought  before  us,   who  in  the 
bloom  of  his  youth,  in  the  defence  of  all  that  is    good 
and  great,  had  received    numberlefs  wounds  •,  1  fay, 
to  obferve  that  this  dead  youth  is  introduced  only  for 
the  example  of  his  virtue,  and  that  his  death  is  fo  cir- 
cumftantiated  that  we  are  fatis}!«-.d,  for  all  his  virtue,, 
St  was    for    the   good    of  the   world   and   his    own 
family,    that    his    v/arm  temper     was    not     to    be 
put  upon  farther  trial,  but  his  talk  of  life  ended  v/hile 
it  was  yet  virtuous,  is  an  employment  worthy  the  conr 
federation  of  young  Britons.     We   are  obliged  to  au- 
thors that  can  do  what  they  will  with  us,  that  they  do 
not  play  our  afFeclions  and  paflions  againA  ourfelves  5, 
but  to  make  us  fo  foon  refigned  to  the  death  of  Mar*- 
tusy  of  whom  we  were  fo  fond,  is  a  power  that  would 
be  unfortunately  lodg^ed  in  a  man  without  the  love  of 
virtue. 

Were  it  not  that  I  fpeak  on  this  occafion  rather  as, 
a  Guardian  than  a  Critic,  I  could  proceed  to  the  ex- 
amination of  the  juftnefs  of  each  charadier,  and  take 
notice  that  the  Nxmidian  is  as  well  drawn  as  the  Ra- 
man, There  is  not  an  idea  in  all  the  part  of  Syphax^ 
which  does  not  apparently  arife  from  the  habits  which 
grow  in  the  mind  of  an  African  ;  and  the  fcene  be- 
tween Juha  and  his  General,  where  they  talk  for  and; 
againft  a  liberal  education,  is  full  of  mitru(^ion.    Sj- 


At)DISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  187 

phax  urges  all  that  can  be  faid  againft  philofophy,  as 
it  is  made  fubfcrvient  to  ill  ends  by  men  who  abufe 
their  talents  ;  and  JuU  fets  the  lefs  excellencies  of 
adivity,  labour,  patience  of  hunger,  and  ftrength  of 
body,  which  are  the  admired  qualifications  of  a  Numi- 
Many  m  their  proper  fubordination  to  the  accomplifli- 
mcnts  of  the  mind. 

Guardian,  Vol.  L  No.  33. 


I 


CELIBACY 

Mr.  Spfctatcr, 


,  who  now  write  to  you,  am  a  woman  loaded  with 
mjuries  ;  and  the  aggravation  of  my  misfortune  is, 
that  they  are  fuch  as  are  overlooked  by  the  generality 
of  mankind  \  and  though  the  mod  affiiding  imagina- 
ble, not  regarded  as  fuch  in  the  general  fenfe  of  the 
world.  1  have  hid  my  vexation  from  all  mankind, 
but  have  now  taken  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  am  re- 
folved  to  unbofom  myfelf  to  you,  and  lay  before  you 
what  grieves  me  and  all  the  fex.  You  have  very  of- 
ten mentioned  particular  hardfhips  done  to  this  or 
that  lady  j  but  methinks  you  have  not  in  any  one 
fpeculatiort  dirediy  pointed  at  the  partial  freedom 
men  take,  the  unreafonable  conftoement  women  are 
oblige^i  to,  in  the  only  circumftance  in  which  we  are 
neceii'aiily  to  have  a  commerce  with  them,  that  of 
love.  The  cafe  of  celibacy  is  the  great  evil  of  our 
nation  ;  and  the  indulgence  of  the  vicious  conduct  of 
men  in  tbi.t  ilate,  with  the  ridicule  to  which  women 
are  expofed,  though  ever  fo  virtuous,  if  long  unmar- 
ried, is  the  root  of  the  greateft  irregularities  of  this 
nation.  To  fhow  you,  Sir,  that  though  you  have 
never  given  us  the  catalogue  of  a  lady's  library  as  you 
promifed,  we  read  good  books  of  our  own  choofmg, 
I  fliall  infert  on  this  occafion  a  paragraph  or  two  out 
of  Echard'^  Roman  Hijiory..  In  the  44th  page  of  the  fe- 
cond  volume,  the  author  obferves,  that  Augufius^  upon 
his  return  to  Rome  at  the  end  of  a  war,  received  com- 
plaints that  too  great  a  number  of  tlK  young  men  of 


i88  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

quality  remained  unmarried.  The  Emperor  the^-e- 
upon  ailembled  the  whole  Equejirian  order,  and  hav-^ 
ing  feparated  the  married  from  the  fingle,  did  partic-. 
ular  honowrs  to  the  former;  but  he  told  the  latter,' 
that  is  to  fay,  Mr.  Spe3atcr,  he  told  the  bachelors, 
"  that  their  lives  and  a(Stions  had  been  fo  peculiar, 
that  he  knew  not  by  what  name  to  call  them  ;  not  by 
that  of  men,  for  they  performed  nothing  that  was 
manly  j  not  by  that  of  citizens,  for  the  city  might 
perifh  notwithllanding  their  care  ;  not  by  that  of 
Romans,  for  they  defigned  to  extirpate  the  Roman 
name."  Then  proceeding  to  ftiow  his  tender  care 
and  hearty  afFedtion  for  his  people,  he  farther  told 
them,  "  that  the  courfe  of  life  was  of  fuch  pernicious 
confequence  to  the  glory  and  grandeur  of  the  Roman 
nation,  that  he  couid  net  choofe  but  tell  them,  that 
sU  other  crimes  put  together  could  not  equalize  theirs: 
for  they  were  guilty  of  murder,  in  not  fufrering  thofe 
to  be  born  which  fhould  proceed  from  them  ;  of  im- 
piety, in  caufing  the  names  and  honours  of  their  an- 
ceftors  to  ceafe  :  and  of  facrilege,  in  deftroying  their 
kind,  which  proceed  from  the  imoiortal  gods  and  hu- 
man nature,  the  principal  thing  confecrated  to  them  : 
therefore  they  diflblved  the  government  in  difobeying 
its  laws  ;  betrayed  their  country,  by  making  it  bar- 
ren and  waile  ;  nay,  and  demolillied  their  city,  in  de- 
priving it  of  inhabitants.  And  he  was  fenfible  that 
all  this  proceeded  not  from  any  kind  of  virtue  or  ab- 
ilinence,  but  from  a  loofenefs  and  wajitonnefs,  which 
ought  never  to  be  encouraged  in  any  civil  government." 
There  are  no  particulars  dwelt  upon,  that  let  us  into 
the  condu6t  of  thefe  young  worthies  whom  this  great 
emperor  treated  with  fo  much  juftice  and  indigna- 
tion. But  any  one  who  obferves  what  pafles  in  this 
town,  may  very  v/ell  frame  to  himfelf  a  notion  of  their 
riots  and  debaucheries  all  night,  and  their  apparent  pre- 
parations for  them  all  day.  It  is  not  to  be  doubted, 
but  thefe  Rom.ans  never  paiTed  any  of  their  time  in- 
nocently but  when  they  were  alleep,  and  never  llept 
but  Vv^hiu  they  were  weary  and  heavy  with  excefies, 
and  ilept  only  to  prepare  thernfelves  for  the  repetitioa 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  189 

•f  them.  If  you  did  your  duty  as  a  Spe^ator^  you 
would  carefully  examine  into  the  number  of  births, 
marriages  and  burials  ;  and  when  you  had  dedu£tecl 
out  of  your  deaths  all  fuch  as  went  out  of  the  world 
without  marrying,  then  cafl  up  the  number  of  both 
fexes  born  within  fuch  a  term  of  years  laft  pad,  you 
might  from  the  fingle  people  departed  make  fome  ufe- 
ful  inferences  or  guefieshow  many  there  are  left  un- 
married, and  raife  fome  ufeful  fcheme  for  the  amend- 
ment of  the  age  in  that  particular.  I  have  not  patience 
to  proceed  gravely  on  this  abominable  libertinifm  ; 
for  I  cannot  but  reflect,  as  I  am  writing  to  you,  upon 
a  cerj;ain  lafcivious  manner  which  all  our  young  gen- 
tlemen ufe  in  public,  and  examine  our  eyes  with  a 
petulancy  in  their  own,  which  is  a  downright  affront 
to  modefty.  A  difdainful  look  on  fuch  an  occafion  is 
returned  with  a  countenance  rebuked,  but  by  avert- 
ing their  eyes  from  the  woman  of  honour  and  decency, 
to  fome  flippant  creature,  who  will,  a«  the  phrafe  is, 
be  kinder.  I  muft  fet  dov/n  things  as  they  come  into 
my  head,  without  (landing  upon  order.  Ten  thoufand 
to  one  but  the  gay  gentleman  who  ftared,  at  the  fame 
time  is  an  houfekeeper  •,  for  you  muft  know,  they  have 
got  into  a  humour  of  late  of  being  very  regular  in  their 
fms,  and  a  young  fellow  flrall  keep  his  four  maids  and 
three  footmen  with  the  greateft  gravity  imaginable. 
There  are  no  Icfs  than  fix  of  thele  venerable  houfe- 
keepers  of  my  acquaintance.  This  humour  among 
young  men  of  condition,  is  imitated  by  all  the  world 
below  them  \  and  a  general  diffolution  of^mcumers  arifes 
from  this  one  fource  of  libertinifm,  without  fhame  or 
reprehenfion  in  the  male  youth.  It  is  from  this  one 
fountain  that  fo  many  beautiful  helplefs  young  wo- 
men are  facrificed  and  given  up  to  lewdnefs,  fliame, 
poverty,  and  difeafe.  It  is  to  this  alfo  that  fo  many 
excellent  young  wcmen,  who  might  be  patterns  of  con- 
jugal affeclion,  and  parents  of  a  worthy  race,  pine  un- 
der unhappy  pafTions  for  fuch  as  have  not  attention 
enough  to  obferve,  or  virtue  enough  to  prefer  them 
to  their  common  wenches.  Now,  Mr.  Spedator,  I 
muft  be  free  to  own  to  you  that  I  myfelf  fufler  a  tafte- 


m 


19®  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

k{s,  infipid  being,  from  a  confi deration  I  have  for  a- 
man  who  would  not,  as  he  faid  in  my  hearing,  refigii 
his  liberty,  as  he  calls  it,  for  all  the  beauty  and  wealth- 
the  whole  fex  is  polTefied  of.  Such  calamities  asj 
thefe  would  not  happen,  if  it  could  be  poiTibly  brought^ 
about,  that  by  fining  bachelors  as  papift  convi£ls,  or: 
the  like,  they  were  diftinguifhed  to  their  difadvantage 
from  the  reft  of  the  world,  who  fall  in  with  the  mea- 
fures  of  civil  focieties.  Left  you  fhould  think  that  I 
fpeak  this  as  being,  accorditig  to  the  fenfelefs  rude 
phrafe,  a  malicious  old  maid,  I  fhall  acquaint  you  L 
am  a  woman  of  condition,  not  now  three-and-twenty, 
and  Iiave  had  propofals  from  at  leaft  ten  different 
men,  and  the  greater  nuxnber  of  them  have  upon  the 
upfhot  refuled  me.  Something  or  other  is  always 
amifs,  when  the  lover  takes  to  fome  new  wench :  a 
fettlement  is  eafily  excepted  againft  ;  and  there  is  ve- 
ry little  refource  to  avoid  the  vicious  part  of  our 
youth,  but  throwing  one's  felf  away  upon  fome'lifelefs 
blockhead,  who,  though  he  is  without  vice,  is  alfo 
without  virtue.  Now-a-days  we  muft  be  contented 
if  we  can  get  creatuies  which  are  not  bad  j  good  are 
not  to  be  expedl^.d.  Mr.  SpeSIator^  I  fat  near  you  the 
other  day,  and  think  I  did  not  difpleafe  your  fpefta- 
torial  eye  fight  j  which  I  fhall  be  a  better  judge  of, 
when  I  fee  whether  you  take  notice  of  thefe  evils  your 
own  way,  or  print  this  memorial  didlated  from  the 
difdainful^  heavy  heart  of 

Sir^ycur  mo  ft  Obedient^  i^c. 
RACHAEL  WELL  AD  AY. 
Spectator,  Vol  VII.  No.  528.  T. 


A 


CENSURE. 


GOOD  confcience  is  to  the  foul,  what  health  is 
to  the  body  ;  it  preferves  a  conftant  eafe  and  ferenity 
within  us,  and  more  than  countervails  all  the  calami- 
ties and  afflidions  which  can  poflibiy  befall  us.  I 
know  nothing  fo  hard  for  a  generous  mind  to  get  over, 
as  calumny  and  reproach  j  and  cannot  find  any  meth- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  191 

od  of  quieting  the  foul  under  tliem,  befides  this  fingle 
one,  of    our  being  conicicus  to  ourfelvcs  that  we  do 
?iiot  deG^rve  them. 

I  have  ahvays  bpen  mightily  pleafed  with  that  paf- 
fage  in  Don  2>uixote^  where  the  fantafticnl  knight  is  re- 
prefented  as  loading  a  gentleman  of  good  lenfe  with 
praifes  and  eulogiums.  Upon  which  the  gentleman 
makes  this  reflection  to  himfelf  :  HoV  grateful  Is  praife 
to  human  nature  !  I  cannot  forbear  being  fecretly 
pleafed  with  the  commendations  I  receive,  though  I 
am  fenfible  it  is  a  madman  that  beflows  them  up,OBi 
me.  In  the  fanu*  manner,  though  we  are  often  lure 
that  the  cenfures  which  are  pafTed  upon  us,  are  utter- 
ed by  thofe  who  know  nothing  of  us,  and  havt  nei- 
ther means  nor  abilities  to  form  a  right  judgment  of 
us,  we  cannot  forbear  being  grieved,  at  what  they  f.iy. 

In  order  to  heal  this  intirmity,  which  is  fo  natural 
to  the  wifeil  and  bed  of  men,  I  have  taken  a  particu- 
lar pleafure  in  obferving  the  conduct  of  the  old  phil)- 
fophers,  how  they  bore  themfeives  up  aguinfl:  the  m.d- 
ice  and  detraftion  of  their  enemies. 

The  way  to  fdence  calumny,  fiiys  Bias^  is  to  be  al- 
ways exercifed  in  fuch  things  as  are  praife  v.'orthy. 
Socrates  after  having  received  fentence,  told  his  friends 
that  he  had  always  accufhomed  himfelf  to  regard  truth, 
and  not  cenfure  ;  and  that  he  was  not  troubled  at  his 
condemnation,  becaufe  he  knew  himfelf  free  from 
,  guilt.  It  was  in  the  fame  fpirit  tliat  he  heard  the  ac- 
.  cufation  of  his  two  great  adverfaries,  who  had  uttered 
againfl  him  the  moll  virulent  reproaches.  "  Anjtur 
'  :3nd  Melitus,  (fays  he)  may  procure  fentence  againil  me, 
but  they  cannot  hurt  m.e."  This  divine  philofopher 
was  fo  well  fortified  in  his  own  innocenccthat  he  neg- 
le6led  all  the  impotence  of  evil  tongues  which  were 
engaged  in  his  deilruclion.  This  was  j)roperly  the 
fupport  of  a  good  confeience,  that  contradi£led  the  re- 
ports which  had  been  raifed  againft  him^  and  cleared 
him  to  himfelf. 

Others  of  the  philofophcrs  rather  chofe  to  retort  the 
mjury  by  a  fmart  reply,  than  thus  to  dif^rm  it  with 
lefpeft  to  themfeives.    They  Ihow  that  it  ilung  them. 


192  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

though  at  the  f?me  time  they  had  the  addrefs  to  make 
their  aggreflbrs  fufFer  with  them.  Of  this  kind  was 
Arijiotle^  reply  to  one  who  purfued  him  with  long  and 
bitter  invec?^^?es.  "  You,"  fays  he.  "  who 'are  ufed  to 
fufFer  reproachssj  utter  them  with  deUght :  I,  who 
have  not  been  ufed  to  utter  them,  take  no  pleafure  in 
hearing  rhem."  Diogenes  was  dill  more  fevere  on  one 
who  fpoke  ill  of  h^iiii  :  "  Nobody  will  beheve  you  when 
you  fpeik  ill  of  mCj  any  more  than  they  would  believe 
me  iiiould  i  fpeak  well  of  you." 

In  thefe,  and  many  other  inftances  I  could  produce, 
the  bitternefs  of  the  anfvv-er  fufEciently  teftifies  the 
uneafniefs  of  mind  the  perfon  was  under  who  made  it. 
I  would  rather  advife  my  reader,  if  he  has  not  in  this 
cafe  the  fecret  confolation  that  he  deferves  no  fuch  re- 
proaches as  are  call  upon  him,  to  follow  the  advice  of 
EpiSieius  :  "  If  any  one  fpeaks  ill  of  thee,  confider 
whether  he  has  truth  on  his  fide  ;  and  if  fo,  reform 
thyfelf,  that  his  cenfures  may  not  affect  thee."  When 
Anaximander  was  told  that  the  very  boys  laughed  at  his 
finging,  "  Aye,"  fays  he,  "  then  1  mull  learn  'to  fmg 
better."  But  of  all  the  fayings  of  philofophers  which 
I  have  gathered  together  for  my  own  ufe  upon  this  oc- 
calion,  there  are  none  which  carry  in  them  more  can- 
dour and  good  fenfc  than  the  two  following  ones  of 
Plato  :  Being  told  that  he  had  many  enemies,  who 
fpoke  ill  of  him  ;  "  It  is  no  matter,'*  faid  he,  *'  I  will 
live  fo  that  none  fiiall  believe  them."  Hearing  at 
-another  time  that  an  intimate  friend  of  his  had  fpoken 
detraclingly  of  him,  "  I  am  fure  he  would  not  do  it,'* 
fays  he,  **  if  he  had  not  forne  reafon  for  it."  This  is 
the  fureft  as  well  as  the  nobleft  way  of  drawing  the 
fting  out  of  a  reproach,  and  a  true  method  of  prepar- 
ing a  man  for  that  great  and  only  rehef  againlt  the 
pains  of  calumny,    a  good  confcience. 

^  I  dcfigned  in  this  elfay  to  fhow  that  there  is  no  hap- 
pinefs  wanting  to  him  who  is  poflelTed  of  this  excel- 
lent frame  of  mind,  and  that  no  perfon  can  be  miferaWe 
who  is  in  the  enjoyment  of  it.  But  I  find  this  fubje6t 
fo  well  treated  in  one  of  Dr.  South'^  fermons,  that  I 
(hall  fill  this  paper  with  a  paiTage  of  it,  which  cannot 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  193 

l3ut  make  the  man's  heart  burn  within  him,  who  reads 
it  with  due  attention. 

That  admirable  author  having  (hown  the  virtue  of  a 
good  confcience  in  fupporting  a  man  under  the  greats- 
eft  of  trials  and  diilicuities  of  life,  concludes  with  rep- 
irefenting  its  force  and  efiicacy  in  the   hour  of  death. 

"  The  third  and  laft  inftance,  in  which  above  all 
others  this  confidence  towards  God  does  moft  eminently 
(liow  and  exert  itfelf,  is  at  the  tinu  of  deaths  which  fure- 
]y  gives  the  grand  opportunity  of  trying  both  the 
Jirength  and  otcr/^  of  every  principle.  When  a  mar* 
ihall  be  juft  about  to  quit  the  ftage  of  this  world,  ta 
put  off  his  mortality,  and  to  deliver  up  his  laft  accounts 
to  God,  at  which  l*ad  time  his  memory  fliall  ferve  him 
for  little  elfe  but  to  terrify  him  with  a  frightful  revieiv 
of  his  paft  life,  and  his  former  extra'vagances  ftript  of 
all  their  pleafure,  but  retaining  their  guHt  ;  what  is  it 
thsn  that  can  promlfe  him  a  fair  paflage  into  the  other 
world,  or  a  comfortable  appearance  before  his  dreadful 
Jud^e  when  he  is  there  ?  Not  all  the/riends  and  interefis^ 
all  the  riches  and  honours  under  Heaven,  can  fpeak  io 
much  as  a  word  for  him^  or  one  word  of  comfort  to  hitn 
>n  that  condition  •,  they  may  poffibly  reproach,  but  they 
cannot  relieve  him. 

''  No,  at  this  difconfolate  time,  when  thebufy  temp- 
r:r  fliall  be  more  than  ufually  apt  to  vex  and  trouble 
■  lim,  and  the  pains  of  a  dying  body  to  hinder  and  dif- 
compofe  him,  and  the  fettlement  of  worldly  affairs  ti> 
difturb  and  confound  him  ;  and,  in  a  word,  all  things 
confpire  to  make  his  fick  bed  grievous  and  uneafy  ; 
nothing  can  then  ftand  up  againll  all  thefe  rains,  and 
ipeak  life  in  the  mid  ft  of  death^  hut  a  clear  confcience.  And 
the  teftimony  of  that  fliall  make  the  comforts  of  Hea- 
ven defcend  upon  his  weary  head  like  a  refreftiing  dew, 
or  fliower  upon  a  parched  ground  ;  itfliall  givehimfome 
.lively  earnefts  and  fecret  anticipations  of  his  approach- 
ing joy  :  it  fliall  bid  his  foul  go  out  of  the  body  undaunt- 
edly, and  lift  up  its  head  with  confidence  before  faints 
and  angels.  Surely  the  comfort  which  it  conveys  at 
tliis  fealbn  is  fomething  bigger  than  ths  capacities  of 


194         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

mortality,  mighty  and  unfpeakable,  and  not  to  be  un- 
derftood  till  it  comes  to  be  felt., 

"  And  now,  who  would  not  quit  all  the  plcajures,  and 
traffp  and  trlfiesy  which  are  apt  to  captivate  the  heart  of 
man,  andpurfue  the  greatefl  rigours  of  piety  and  aufleri- 
tics  "of  a  good  life,  to  purchafe  to  him  fuch  a  confcience 
as  at  the  hour  of  death,  when  all  the  friend ihip  in  the 
world  ihall  bid  him  adieu,  and  the^whole  creation  turns 
its  back  upon  him,  fhall  difmifs  the  foul,  and  clofe  his 
eyes  with  that  bleffed  fentence,  Well  done^  thou  gcod  and 
faithfulfer<vant\  enter  thou  into  the  jOy  of  thy  Lord  J" 

Guardian,  Vol.    11.  No.    135. 


7he  following  Piece  is  Ext  raffed  from  the  EVANGELICAL 

Magazine. 

Parlour  Religion  exemplified  in  the  Practice  9i  Hono- 
Rio,  his  Family  and  Friends. 


HOSE  to  whom  the  Lord  has  given  a  plenty  of 

the  good  things  of  this  world,  have  it  in  their  power  to 
anticipate  fomething  of  the  employments  and  enjoy- 
ments of  Heaven,  fo  far. as  the  imperfedion  of  the 
prefent  ftate  will  permit  ;  for  they  have  all  things 
richly  to  enjoy,  they  may  chocfe  their  company,  their 
time,  and  entertainments,  and  in  all  things  follow  the 
pious  difpo  fit  ion  of  their  hearts.  It  is  an  happinefs 
for  a  religious  man  to  vifit,  or  to  be  in  a  houle  that 
has  a  good  man  at  its  head.  Such  a  houfe  is  that  of 
Honorio. 

In  the  morning  the  parlour  is  decently  prepared,  and 
■warmed  for  the  reception  of  the  pious  heads  of  tl>e 
family,  who  come  from  their  cham.ber  fmiling  with 
gratitude  to  God,  and  good-humoured  with  their  dili- 
gent fervants.  The  little  family  during  their  infancy 
are  in  the  nurfery,  and  every  thing  that  might  inter- 
rupt, is  prohibited  from  entering  the  parlour,  which  is 
at  this  hour  a  chapel  for  devotion.  The  clock  having 
ftruek  the  well-known  hour,  Honorio  and  his  beloved 
wife  are  feated,  with  the  book  of  God  before  them. ; 
the  fervants  enter  with  looks  expreflive  of  the  bappi- 


ADDISONIAN  MlbCELLANY.     ,        195 

'ijefs  they  feel  in  having  the  privilege  of  being  God's 
free  m-^n,  and  joining  their  mafter  and  mi{lrefs»in  his 
fervice.  Under  the  direcflion  of  Honorio,  a  fon  of 
praife  to  God  for  his  mercies  is  offered  up  by  this  prim- 
itive church  ;  and  a  portion  of  fcripture  is  read,  that 
their  minds  may  become  mare  familiarly  acquainted 
with  the  facred  oracles.  This  being  done,  they  all  bow 
their  knees  to  Him  by  whom  the  whole  family  in  hea- 
ven and  earth  is  named  ;  and  the  good  Honorio  calls 
upon  his  Lord  and  Mailer  in  heaven,  with  expreflions 
of  profound  homage  and  humility  ;  bleffmg  him  for 
the  favours  of  the  pall  night,  and  the  pleafure  of  feeing; 
the  light  of  the  returning  day.  Like  the  ereat  Higli- 
Prielt  he  bears  on  his  heart  all  his  family  oefore  God, 
and  intreats  for  particular  mercies  according  to  the*, 
knov^m  ilate  of  his  houfehold  ;  and  puts  himfclf  and  ;;]i 
his  affairs,  both  temporal  and  fpiritual,  into  the  r.inds 
of  his  heavenly  father.  He  then  gives  them  hii  ben- 
edi6tion,  and  they  all  arife.  The  happy  fervants  cheer- 
ed and  warmed  with  the  aids  of  devotion,  return  to 
their  duty,  each  according  to  his  place,  and  the  heads 
of  the  family,  with  their  guefts  (if  fuch  are  piefent  )rit 
dov/n  to  breakfaft  on  the  overflowing  bounty  of  God's 
providence.  Bufinefs,  or  works  of  piety,  perhaps,  call 
the  mafter  away,  and  the  miftrefs,  having  given 'direc- 
tions in  her  family,  takes  her  ufuai  feat  and  employ- 
ment in  her  parlour.  The  Bible  is  laid  near  her,  10 
be  referred  to  as  her  belt  friend  and  director,  her  ricli- 
eft  cordial  in  trouble,  and  moft  faithful  monitor  in 
doubtful  cafes.  Nor  is  Ihe  fearful  that  any  vifitor  fliould 
find  her  with  this  companion,  for  fhe  defircs  no  com- 
pany but  thofe  who  love  the  fcripturcs.  Slie  is  rather 
of  the  fentiments  of  a  well  knov*'n  female,  who  brought 
her  family  Bible  into  her  parlour,  c^nd  laying  it  on  the 
table,  faid,  "  Lie  there,  thou  bed  of  books,  and  keep 
thou  thy  place  whoever  comes  in."  A  pious  vifitor 
or  two,  or  a  minifter  cf  Chrill  perhaps,  drops  in,  in  the 
forenoon.  If  fo,  the  time  is  not  wafted  in  unprofita- 
ble talk,  bu'c  the  parlour  is  honoured  by  being  changed 
into  the  fnnilitude  of  die  holy  mount.  The  heavenly 
woman  and  her  guefts  enter  into  difcourfe,  as  Mofe* 


1^6  AEDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

and  Ellas  did,  on  what  once  pafTed  at  Jerufakm,  when 
Jefus  gapve  his  life  a  ranfom  for  many  •,  and  their  ex- 
perience fo  confirn»s  their  interell  in  that  work  of  love^ 
that  their  hearts  burn  within  them,  and  like  St.  Peter, 
they  find  it  good  to  be  there. 

The  hour  to  dine  being  come,  Honorio  returns,  and 
probably  brings  a  religious  friend  or  two  to  his  hofpit- 
able  manfion.  The  table  being  fpread  with  plenty, 
•without  oftentation,  the  provifion  is  fan(flified  by  the 
prayer  of  Honorio,  penetrated  with  a  l^nfe  of  havirig- 
forfeited  every  thing  by  fm,  but  having  recovered  ail 
by  the  merit  of  his  great  Saviour,  a  remembiance  oi 
ivhcfe  love  makes  every  thing  more  fweetand  refrefli- 
ing.  Having  ufed,  but  not  abufed,  the  bounties  of 
Providence,  grateful  acknov/Vlgements  are  returned 
to  the  great  Giver  of  every  good  gift  j  and  the  pious 
few  mingle  profitable  difcourfe  with  their  wine,  or 
concert  feme  plan  for  fupplying  the  wants  of  thofe 
who  are  in  dittrefling  circumllances.  Towards  even- 
ing, a  fele£l  company  grace  the  tea-table  j  and  the  in- 
terefts  of  the  Qofpel,  with  the  beft  means  of Tpreading 
its  influence  around  them,  become  the  fubjeds  of  their 
converfation.  Should  national  j^fFairs  happen  to  b^ 
•introduced,  they  exprefs  their  loyalty  towards  their 
lawful  fovereign,  and  their  thankfulnefs  to  God  for  the 
many  invaluable  privileges  enjoyed  by  Engliflimen, 
The  hour  of  parting  being  come,  the  praifes  of  God 
intrcducc  the  devotion  of  the  evening,  in  which,  as  ia 
the  morning,  the  fcriptures  aie  read,  and  all  the  fami- 
ly called  to  unite.  Care  is  taken  not  to  protracl  this 
lervice  to  an  immoderate  length,  lell  the  children,  on 
account  of  their  tender  years,  and  the  fervants,  weari- 
ed with  the  labour  of  the  day,  might  be  inclined  to 
ileep  when  their  minds  ought  to  be  attentive.  Noj? 
is  it  hurried  over  as  though  it  were  of  no  importance  ; 
but  fufficient  time  is  taken  reverently  and  decently  to 
thank  God  for  his  gocdnefs,  earneflly  to  intreat  him  to 
pardon  their  fins,  and  to  commit  themfelves  into  hii 
care  and  prote6^ion. 

O  ye  worldlings  !  what  can  ye  produce  in  the  fcenes 
©f  your  lives  that  is  worthy  to  be  compared  with  thiii  .^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  197 

«  The  curfc  of  God,"  fays  the  fcripture,  "  is  In  the 
dwellings  of  the  wicked."  Your  pHrlours  have  no 
blefTiiTg  in  them.  Your  children  'und  fervants  never 
hear  the  name  of  God  mentioned  in  them,  ui/lefs  it 
be  to  blafpheme  it.  Your  tables  are  unblefled.  At 
your  banquets,  Intemperance  reigns,  and  modefly  is 
put  to  the  blulh.  The  parlours  I  have  been  defcri- 
bing  are  types  of  heaven,  where  due  returns  are  made 
to  God  for  his  bounty.  Ye  are  deluded  by  what  you 
call  rational  amufements.  Like  children  you  divert 
yourfelves  in  foolifh  play,  night  after  night,  wailing 
your  time  and  fubftance."  *•  And  the  God  in  whofe 
nands  your  breath  is,  and  whofe  are  all  your  ways, 
you  have  not  glorified".  Any  thing  that  is  ferious  and 
ufeful  to  your  fouls,  you  will  not  once  hear,  much 
lefs  will  you  hear  it  repeated.  **  And  what  will  ye 
do  in  the  end  thereof?''  O  that  ye  were  wife,  that 
you  flioulJ  confidcr  your  ways,  and  at  lad  make  fomc 
returns  of  gratitude  to  a  gracious  God  for  all  his  ben- 
efits beflowed  upon  you. 

FIDELIO. 


CHARITY. 

v^fs^HARITY  Is  a  virtue  of  the  heart,  and  not  of 
the  hands,  fays  an  old  writer.  Gifts  and  alms  are  the 
cxprefiions,  not  the  elTence  of  tliis  virtue.  A  man 
may  bellow  great  fums  on  the  poor  and  indigent  with- 
out being  charitable,  and  may  be  charitable  when  he 
is  not  able  to  beflow  any  thing.  Charity  therefore  is 
a  habit  of  good-will  or  benevolence  in  the  foul,  which 
clifpofcs  us  to  the  love,  afliftance,  and  relief  of  man- 
kind, cfpecially  of  thofe  who  fland  in  need  of  it. 
The  poor  man  who  has  this  excellent  frame  of  mindy 
is  no  lefs  intltled  to  the  reward  of  this  virtue,  than 
the  man  who  founds  a  college.  For  my  own  part,  I 
am  charitable  to  an  extravagance  this  way  :  I  never 
faw  an  indigent  perfon  in  my  life,  without  reaching 
out  to  him  fome  of  this  imaginary  relief.  I  cannot 
but  fympathife  with  every  one  I  iu€€t  wbQ  k  in  aiBi^** 
Ha 


i5>8  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANYI 

tion  ;  and  if  my  abilities  were  equal  to  my  wifiies>. 

^ere  fliould  be  neither  pain  nor  poverty  in  the  world. 

Guardian,  Vol.  II.  No.  166^ 


CHARMS. 

Jt  HERE  is  no  charm  in  the  female  fex  that  can' 
fupply  the  place  of  virtue.  Without  innocence,  beau- 
t!j  is  unlovely,  and  quality  contemptible  j  good-breed- 
dng  degenerates  into  wantonnef^,  and  wit  into  impu- 
dence. It  is  obferved,  that  all  the  virtues  are  repre- 
sented by  both  painters  and  ftatuaries  under  female 
Jliapes  ;  but  if  any  one  of  them  has  a  more  particular 
title  to  that  fex,  it  is  modefty,  I  fliall  leave  it  to  the  di- 
vines to  guard  them  againfi:  the  oppofite  vice,  as  they, 
may  be  overpowered  by  temptations  it  is  fufficient  for 
3ne  to  have  warned  them  againft  it,  as  they  may  be 
Jtdi.  aftray  by  inftinft. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VI.  No.  395.  X.. 


B 


CHASTITY. 


UT  as  I  am  now  talking  to  the  woVid  yet  untaint- 
ed, I  wall  venture  to  recommend  ehaftity  as  the  noblefb. 
snale  qualification. 

It  is,  methinks,  very  unreafonable,  that  the  difficul- 
iy  of  attaining  all  other  good  habits,  is  what  makes 
ahem  honourable  ;  but  in  this  cafe,  the  very  attempt 
Ms  become  ridiculous  :  but  in  fpight  of  all  the  raille- 
jy  of  the  world,  truth  is  ftill  truth,  and  will  have  beau- 
ties infeparable  from  it.     I  (liould,  upon  this  occafion, 
bring  examples  of  heroic  chaftity,    were  I  not  afraid^ 
of  having  my  paper  thrown  away  by  the  modi fh  part- 
of  the  town,  who  go  no  farther  at  beft  than  the  mere 
abfence  of  ill,  and  are   contented  to   be  rather  irre- 
proachable than  praife- worthy.     In  this  particular,  r. 
gentleman    in  the  court  of  Cyrus^  reported  to  his  ma~ 
jefty  the  charms  and  beauty   of  Panthea  ;    and  ended 
luj  panegyric  by  telling  lu»i>  that  fince  he  was  at  ieif* 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  1^9 

ore, .he  would  carry  him  to  vifit  her.  But  tha' 
pnnce,who  is  a  verv  great  man  to  this  day  an- 
fvvered  the  pimp,  becaufe  he  was  a  man  of  qual- 
ity, without  roughnefs,  and  faid,  with  a  fmile,  If 
I  Jhould 'vifit  her  upon  ycur  iHirodudion  notv  I  have  leifure^  I 
do  kno-w  bno^M  but  I  might g")  again  upon  her  oixn  invitationy 
«when  I  ought  to  be  better  employed.  Ijut  when  I  caft  about 
all  the  indances  which  I  h^ive  met  with  in  all  my 
reading,  I  find  not  one  ^o  generous,  fo  honefh*  and  fo 
noble,  as  that  oijcfph  \i\  holj  nxrit,  Vvlien  his  mailer 
had  truicta  him  m  unrefervedly  (to  fpeak  it  in  the  cm- 
phcitical  manner  of  the  fcripturc)^^  kne^v  not  aught  he 
had^fave  the  bread  n.vhich  he  did  eat^  he  was  fo  unhappy 
as  to  appear  irrefillibly  beautiful  to  his  miflrefs.  But 
when  this  Ihamelefs  woman  proceeds  to  folicit,  how 
gAllant  is  his  anfwer  !  Behold^  my  majier  ^-cttetb  net 
nuhat  is  ivith  me  in  the  houfe^  and  kath  committed  all  that 
he  hath  to  my  hand  :  There  is  r. one  greater  in  the  houfe  than.I  \ 
neither  hath  he  kept  baek  any  thing  from  me  hut  thee^  becaufe 
thou  art  his  ivifc.  The  fame  argument  whichabafc  mind 
would  have  made  to  itfelf,  for  coi«nmitting  the  evil, 
was  to  this  brave  man  the  grcatcfl  mctive  for  the 
foi bearing  it,  that  he  could  do  it  with  impunity.  The 
malice  and  falOiood  of  the  difappointed  woman  natu- 
rally arofe  on  that  occafion  ;  and  there  is  but  a  fliort 
ftep  from  the  practice  of  virtue  to  the  hatred  of  it. 
It  would  be  therefore  worth  ferious  ccnfideration  in 
both  fexes,  and  t\\Q  matter  is  oT  importance  to  thcm^ 
to  alk  themfelves  whetlier  they  v/ouid  change  light- 
nefs  of  heart,  indolence  of  mind,  cheerful  meals,  un- 
troubled (lumbers,  and  gentle  difpofitions,  for  a  con- 
ftant  puriency,  which  ihuts  cut  all  things  that  a^^e 
great  or  iauiiix^rcn-t,  clouds  tlie  imagination  with  in- 
fenfibiliry  and  prejudice  to  ail  manner  of  delight,  but 
that  which,  is  common  to  all  creatures  that  extend 
their  fpccies. 

A  loofe  behaviour,  and  an  inattention  to  everything 
that,  is  ferious,  flowing  from  fome  degree  of  this  pet- 
ulancy,  is  obfervable  in  the  generality  of  youth  ©f 
Jboth  fexes  in  this  age.     It  is  the  one  ccaimon  face  of 

roit  public  meetings,  and  breaks  in  upon  the  fobrietyg 
won't  fay  feverity,  that  we  ought  to  exercife  iu 


2»o  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

churches.     The  pert  boys,  and  flippant  girls,   are  but* 
faint  followers  of  thofe    in    the  fame    inclinations  at, 
more  advanced  years.     I  know    not  who  can    oblige* 
them  to  mend  their  manners  ;   all  that  I  pretend  to  is, 
to  enter  my  proteft  that  they  are  neither   fine  gentle- 
men nor  fine  ladies  for   this    behaviour.     As  for   the- 
I'Ortraitures  which  I  would  propofe,  as  the  images  of  ■ 
agreeable  men  and  women,  if  they  are  not  imitated  or^^ 
r  ;gar«led,  I  can  only  anfwer,  as  I  remember  Mr.  Dry- 
&£a  did  upon  the  like  o^cafion,    when  a  young  fellow,: 
juft  come  from  the  play  of  Cldcmencs,  told  him  in  rail-. 
Irry  again  ft  the  continency  of  his  principal  charader, 
if  I  had  been   alone    with   a    lady,  I    (hould  not  have 
p.ilTed  my  time    like  your   Spartan.     That  may  be^    an-, 
fwered  the   Bard,   with  a   very  grave  face  ;  but  gi've^ 
»ic  lea've  to  tell j,  cu.  Sir, you  a^-e  no  Hero. 

Guardian,  Vol.  I.  No.  44.  • 


CHEERFULNESS. 

is  an  unreafonable  thing  fome  men   expedl:   of 
their  acquaintance  :  they  are   ever   complaining  that" 
they  are  out  of  order,  or  difpleafed,  or  they  knownot^ 
how  ;  and  are  fo  far  from  letting  that  be  a  reafon  for- 
retiring  to  their   own  homes,  that  they  make  it  their 
argument  for  coming  into  company.     What    has  any" 
body  to  do  with  accounts  of  a  man's  being  indifpofed," 
but  his  phyfician  ?    If  a  man   laments    in    company,' 
v.'liere  the  rell  are  in  humour  enough  to  enjoy    them- 
felves,  he  fnould  not  take  it  ill,  if  a  fervant  is  ordered* 
tc»  prefent  him  with  a  porringer  of  caudle,  or    poflet- 
drink,  by  way  of  admonition  that  he  go  home   to  bed.; 
That  part  of  life  which  we  ordinarily  underftand  by 
the  word  converfation,  is  an  indulgence  to  the  fociable 
part  of  our  make,  and  fhould  incline  us  to  bring  our 
proportion  of  good-will  or  good-humour  among  the 
friends  we  meet  with,  and  npt  to   trouble   them  withf 
relations  which  muft  of  neceffity  oblige  them  to  a  real 
or  feigned  afili£lion.     Cares,  diftreffes,  difeafes,  unea- 
finefies,  and  diflike§  of  Qur  C)wn,  are  by  nQ  means  t« 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY  26 r 

1>e  obtruded  upon  our  friends.  If  we  would  conGd- 
er  how  little  of  this  vicifiitude  of  mndoii  and  reft, 
which  we  call  life,  is  (pent  with  fatisfadlon,  wc 
(hould  be  ir.ore  tender  of  our  friends,  than  to  bring 
them  little  foirows  which  do  not  belong  to  ihem. 
There  is  no  real  life  but  cheerful  life  ;  therefore  val- 
etudinarians fiiould  be  fworn  before  they  enter  into 
company,  not  to  fay  a  word  of  them  fe Ives  till  the 
meeting  breaks  up.  It  is  not  here  preter.ded,  that  we 
fi)0uld  be  ai'vays  fitting  with  chapletscf  flowers  round 
cur  heads,  or  be  crowiied  with  rofes,  in  order  to  make 
our  entertainment  agreeable  to  us  ;  but  if  (as  it  is 
ufually  obfervcd)  they  wlio  rciblvc  to  be  nerry,  f^^ldoi-a 
are  fo,  it  will  be  much  more  unliktly  for  u?  to  be 
well  pleafed,  if  they  are  admitted  who  arc  always 
complaining  they  are  fiid.  Whatever  we  do  we 
fhouid  keep  up  the  cheerfulncfs  of  our  fpirits,  and 
never  let  them  fink  below  an  incpnation  at  k^aft  to  be 
well  pleafed.  The  v/ay  to  this,  is  to  keep  our  bodies 
in  exercife,  our  minds  at  eafe.  That  inilpid  Hate 
wherein  neitherarein  vigour,  is  not  tobe  accounted :ny 
part  of  our  portionof  being.  When  wc  are  inthefatie- 
fa£lion  of  fome  innocent  pleafure,  or  purfuit  of  fome 
laudable  defign,  we  are  in  the  pcfTefiion  of  life,  of  hu- 
man life.  Fortune  will  give  us  difappointmenta 
enough,  and  nature  is  attended  with  infirmities  enough, 
without  our  adding  to  the  unhappy  fide  of  our  ac- 
count by  oui  fpleen  or  ill-humour.  Poor  Cctiilus^ 
among  fo  many  real  evils,  a  clironical  diftempcr,  and 
a  narrow  fortune,  is  never  heard  to  complain.  That 
equal  fpirit  of  his,  which  any  man  may  have,  that 
like  him  will  conquer  pride,  vanity,  and  afle£lation, 
and  follow  nature,  is  not  to  be  broken,  becaufe  it 
has  no  points  to  contend  for.  To  be  anxious  for 
nothing  but  what  nature  demands  as  neceilary,  if  It 
io  not  the  way  to  an  eilatc,  is  the  way^  to  what  men 
aim  at  by  getting  an  ellate.  This  temper  will  pre- 
ferve  healtlvin  the  body,  as  well  as  trai-.quility  in  the 
mind.  Co^us  fees  the  world  in  a  hurry,  with  tl\e 
fame  fcorn  tliat  a  fobcr  perfon  fees  a  man  drunk.  Had 
he  been  contented  with  what  he  ouglu  to  have  been. 


202         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

how  could,  fays  he,  fucK  a.  on€  have  met  with  fuch  a 
difappointment?  If  another  had  valued  his  millrefs  for 
"W'hat  he  ought  to  have  Icved  her,  he  had  not  been  in  • 
her  power  :  If  her  virtue  had  a  part  ol  his  naflion,  her 
levity  had  been  his  cure  ;  fne  couid  not  then  have 
been  falfe  and  amiable  at  the  fame  time. 

Since  we  cannot  promife  ourfelves  con flant  health, 
let  us  endeavour  at  fuch  a  temper  as  may  be  our  beft 
fuppcrt  in   the    decay   of  it.      Urar.ius  has  arrived  at 
that  compofure  of  foul,    and    wrought  himfelf  up  to- 
fuch  a  negleft  cf  every   thing  with   which  the  gene-- 
rallty  of  mankTnd  is  enchaniedj  that  nothing  but  acute  ■ 
pains  can    give  him   difturbr.nce  ;    and   againft  thcfe- 
too  he  v/iil  tell  his  intimate   friends   he  has    a  fecret  • 
wliich  gives  him  prtftnt  eafe.      Uranius  is  fo  thorough-.- 
ly  perfuaded  of  another  life,  and  endeavours   fo   fin-** 
ccrely  to  fecure  an  intereft  in  it,  that  he    looks   upon- 
pain  but   as  a  quickening  of  his    pace  to    an   home, 
where  he  fiialf  be   better  provided  for   than   in  |.his. 
prefent  apartment.      Inflead  of  the  melancholy  vltv/s     \ 
which  others  are  apt  to  give  themfelves,  he  will  telh    ': 
you   that  he    has  forgot  he   is    mortal,  nor   will  he-.] 
think  of  himfelf  as  fuch.    He  thinks,  at  the  time  of  his-,  0 
birth  he  entered  into  an  eternal  being  j  and  the  Ihort    .; 
article  of  death,  he  will  not  allow  an   interruption  of<   ^ 
life,  fincethat  mom>ent  is  not  of  half  the  duration  as  is  ■    ^ 
his  ordinary  fleep.    Thus  is  his  being  one  uniform  and-    i 
confident  feries  of  cheerful  diverfious   and    moderate .    \ 
cares,  without  fear  or  hope  of   futurity.     Health  tO;    I 
him  is  mort;  than  pleaiiue  to  another  man,  ar  d  fick-     J 
nefs  lefs  afTeciipg  to  him  than  indifpofition  is   to  oth->    \ 
ers.  i 

I  mufl  ccnfefs  if  one  does  net  regard  life  after  this-  .-] 
manner,  none  but  ideots  can  pafs  it  away  with  any^  •; 
tolerable  patience.  Take  a  fine  lady  wlio  is  of  a  de-  1; 
licate  frame,  and  you  may  .obferve,  from  the  hour  flie,-  i 
rifes,  a  certain  wearinefs  of  all  that  pafTes  about  her.  ; 
I  know  more  than  one,  who  is  much  too  nice  to  ht  \ 
quite  alive.  They  are  Tick  of  fuch  (Irange  frightful  J 
peopk  that  they  meet ;  one  is  fo  aukvv^ard,  and  an-  ( 
other  fo  dilagreeable,  that  it  looks  like  a    penance    to  /i 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


203 


•  breathe  the  fame  air  with  them.  You  fee  this  is  fo 
very  true,  that  a  great    part  of  ceremony  and  good- 

.  breeding  among  the  ladies,   turns   upon   their  uneafi- 

vnefs  :  and  I  will  undertake,  if  the  how-do-ye  fervants 
of  our  women  were  to  make  a  weekly  bill  of  ficknefs, 

'.as  the  parifli- clerks  do  of  mortality,  you  would  not  find 
ih  an  account  of  feven  days  one  in  thirty  that  was   not 

downright  fick  or  indifpofed,  or  but  a  very  little  better 

-than  (lie  was,  and  fo  forth. 

It  is  certain  that  to  e«joy  jife  and  licalth  a5  a  co!i- 

'ilant  feaft,  we  (liould  not  think  pleafure  neceilarv  ; 
but,  if  poflible  ,  to  arrive  at  an  equality  of  mind.  It 
is  as  mean  to  be  overjoyed  upon  occafions  of  good- 
fortune,  as  to  be  dejc6led  in  circun^ftanccs  of  diitrefs. 

.laughter  in  one  condition,  is  as  unmanly  as  weeping 
in  the  other.     We  (hould  not  form  our  minds  to   ex- 

:pe£l  tranfport  on  every  occafion,  but  know  how  to 
make  enjoyment  to  be  out  of  pai)i.     AiTibition,  envy, 

•vagrant  delire,  or  impertinent  mirth  wi]i  take  up  our 
minds,  without  we  can  poflcfs  ourfejves  in  that  fobri- 

•ety  of  heart,  which  is  above  all  pleafures,  and  can  be 

•felt  much  bett>.r  than  dffcrlbed.  But  the  ready  way 
1  believe  to  the  right  enjoyment  of  lil":,  is,  by  a  prof- 
peft  towards  another,  to  have  but  a  veiy  mean  opin- 

.ion  of  it.  A  great  author  of  our  time  has  fet  this  in 
an  excellent  light,    when,  with  a   philoibphic  pity  of 

.human  life,  he  fpoke  of  it  in  his  //^eory  of  the  earth  in 
the  following  manner  : 

"   For  what   is  this   life,   but  a  circulation  of  little 

^mean  actions }  We  lie  down  and  rifs  again,  drefs 
and  undrefr,,  feed  and  wax  hungry,  work  or  play,  and 
are  weary  ;  and  then  we  lie  down  again,  and  the 
■circle  returns.  We  fpend  the  day  in  trifles  -,  and 
when  the  night  comes,  we  throw  ourfelves  into  the 
:bed  of  folly  amongft  dreams  ami  broken  thoughts, 
'and  wild  imaginations  ;  our  reafon  lies  afleep  by  us, 
and  we  are  for  the  time  as  arrant  brutes  as  thofe  that 
lleep  in  the  flails  or  In  the  fields.  Are  not  the  capaci- 
ties of  man  higher  than  thefe  ?  And  ought  not  his  am- 
bition, and  expectations  to  be  greater  ?  Let  us  be  ad- 
ventureis  for  another  world  ;  it  is  at  leaft  a  fair  and 


rJSONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

1  ,  .T.ia  there  is  nothing  in  this  worth  our 

tho.:  ;•  our  paflions.  '   If  we  {hould  be  difappoint- 

ed,  Wf^  are  iVilino  worfe  than  the  reft  of  our  fellow- 
mortrJs  ;  and  if  we  fucceed  in  our  expedlations  we 
all  eternally  happy". 

Spectator,  Vol.  IL  No.   143.  T.i 

I  have  always  preferred  cheerfulnefs  to  mirth  ;  the* 
latter  I  confide; as  an  act,  the  former  as  an  habit  of  the^ 
mind.  INIirth  is  fhort  and  tranfient,  cheerfulnefs  fix-i 
ed  and  permanent.  Thofe  are  often  raifed  into  thef 
greateft  tranfports  of  mirth,  who  are  fubje6t  to  the  I 
greateft  depreffions  of  melancholy  :  on  the  contrary,, 
cheerfulnefs,  though  it  does  not  give  the  mind  fuch 
an  exquifite  gladnefs,  prevents  us  from  falling  into; 
any  depths  ot  forrow.  Mirth  is  like  a  flafli  of  light- 
ning, that  breaks  through  a  gloom  of  clouds,  and^ 
Splitters  for  a  moment  :  cheerfulnefs  keeps  up  a  kind  5 
of  day-light  in  the  mind,  and  fills  it  with  a  fteady  and., 
perpetual  ferenity.  J 

Cheerfulnefs  of  mind  is  of  a  ferious  and  compofedj 
nature  ;  it  does  not  throw  the  mind  into  a  condition^ 
improper  for  the  prefent  ftate  of  humanity,  and  is  ve-j 
ry  confpicuous  in  the  charafters  of  thofe  who  are  look-:] 
ed  upon  as  the  greateft  philofophers  among  the  heath-  • 
ens,  as  well  as  among  thofe  who  have  been  deferved-^ 
ly  efteemed  as  faints  and  holy  men  among  Chriftians. 

If  we  confider  cheerfulnefs  in  three  lights,  with  re- 
gard to  ourfelves,  to  thofe  we  converfe  with,  and  to 
the  great  author  of  our  Being,  it  will  not  a  little  re- 
commend itfelf  on  each  of  thefe  accounts.  The  man  , 
who  is  poftefled  of  this  excellent  frame  of  mind,  is  not 
only  eafy  in  his  thoughts,  but  a  perfect  mafter  of  all 
the  powers  and  faculties  of  his  foul.  His  imagina- 
tion is  always  clear,  and  his  judgement  undifturbed  : 
His  temper  is  even  and  unruffled,  whether  in  action 
or  in  folitude.  He  comes  with  a  relifh  to  ail  thofe 
goods  which  nature  has  provided  for  him,  taftes  all 
the  pleafures  of  the  creation  which  are!  poured  about 
him,  and  does  not  feel  the  full  weight  of  thofc  acci-; 
Rental  evils  which  may  befall  him.  ; 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  205 

If  we  confider  him  in  relation  to  the  peifons  whom 
he  converfes  with,  it  naturally  produces  love  and  good 
will  towards  him.  A  cheerful  mind  is  not  only  dif- 
pofed  to  be  affable  and  obliging,  but  raifes  the  fame 
good  humour  in  thcfe  who  come  within  its  influence. 
A  man  finds  himfelf  pleafed,  he  does  not  know  why, 
with  the  cheerfulnefsof  his  companion.  It  is  like  a 
fudden  funfhine  that  av/akens  a  cheerful  delight  in  the 
mind,  without  her  attending  to  it.  The  heart  rejoices 
of  its  o'vjn  accord,  and  naturally  flows  out  into  friend- 
fliip  and  benevolence  towards  the  perfon  who  has  fo 
kindly  an  cffecl  upon  it. 

V/hen  I  confider  this  cheerful  (late  of  mind  in  it* 
third  relation,  I  cannot  but  look  upon  it  as  a  conllant 
habitual  gr?Aitude  to  tlie  great  author  of  nature.  An 
inward  clieerfuhieis  is  an  implicit  praife  and  thankf- 
givlng  to  Providence  under  all  its  difpenfations.  It 
is  a  kind  of  acquiefccnce  in  the  (late  wherein  we  are 
placed,  and  a  fecrct  approbation  of  the  Divine  Will  in 
his.conducl;  towards  man. 

A  man  v»'ho  utes  his  bed  endeavours  to  live  accord- 
ing to  the  dictates  of  virtue  and  right  reafon,  has  two 
perpetual  fourfes  of  cheerfulnefs  in  the  confideration 
of  his  ovvn  nature,  and  of  that  Being  on  whom  he  has 
a  depjndance.  If  he  looks  into  himfelf,  he  cannot 
but  rqoice  in  that  exiflcnce  which  is  fo  lately  beRowed 
upon  him,  and  which,  after  millions  of  ages,  will  be 
itiil  new,  and  (Ull  ia  its  beginning.  How  many  felf- 
rongratulations  naturally  arife  in  the  mind, when  it  re- 
fleds  on  this  its  entrance  into  eternity,  when  it  takes  a 
view  of  thofe  improveable  faculties  which  in  a  fevr 
years,  and  even  at  its  iirfl;  fetting  out,  have  made  fo 
confiderablc  a  progrefs,  and  which  will  be  dill  receiv- 
ing an  incrcafe  of  perfe(£lion,  and  confequently  an  in- 
crcafe of  happinefs  !  The  confcioufnefs  of  fuch  a  be- 
ing fpreads  a  perpetual  diffufion  of  joy  through  the 
foul  of  a  virtuous  man,  and  makes  him  look  upon 
himfelf  every  moment  as  more  happy  than  he  knows 
liov/  to  conceive. 

The  fecond  fource  of  cheerfulnefs  to  a  good  mind, 
is  its  couruieration  of  that  Being  on  whom  we  have 
3 


our  depcndance,  and  in  whom,  though  we  behold  him 
as  yet  in  the  firil  faint  difcoveries  of  his  perfe6lions, 
we  fee  every  thing  that  we  can  imagine  as  great,  glori- 
ous, or  amiable.  We  find  ourfelves  every  where  up- 
held by  his  goodnefs,  and  furrounded  with  an  immen- 
fity  of  love  and  mercy.  In  fliort,  we  depend  upon  a 
Being,  who fe  power  .^qualifies  him  to  make  us  happy 
by  an  infinite  means,  whofe  goodnefs  and  truth  engage 
him  to  make  thofe  happy  who  defire  it  of  him,  and 
whofe  unchangeablcnefs  will  fecure  us  in  this  happi- 
nefs.to  all  eternity. 

Such  confiderations,  which  every  one  fliould  per- 
petually cherifh  in  his  thoughts,  will  baniih  from  us 
all  that  fecret  heavinefs  of  heart  which  unthinking 
men  are  fubjecb  to,  when  they  lie  under  no  real  afflic- 
tion J  all  that  anguifh  which  we  may  feel  from  any 
evil  which  adtually  opprelTes  us,  to  which  I  may  like- 
wife  add  thofe  little  cracklings  of  mirth  and  folly  that 
are  apter  to  betray  virtue  than  fupport  it  ;  and  eftab- 
lilh  in  us  fuch  an  even  and  cheerful  temper,  as  makes 
us  pleafing  to  ourfelves,  to  thofe  with  whom  we  con- 
verfe,  and  to  Him  whom,  we  were  made  to  pleafe. 

Spectator,  Vol.  V.  No.  391.  I. 

A  cheerful  temper  joined  with  innocence  will  make 
beauty  attractive,  knowledge  delightfu),  and  wit  good- 
natured.  It  will  lighten  hcknefs,  poverty,  and  afflic- 
tion, convert  ignorance  iqto  an  amiable  Gmphclty,  and 
render  deformity  itfelf  agreeable. 

Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.  192. 


CHERUBIMS  AND  SERAPHIMS. 

,^OME  of  the  Rabbins  tell  us,  that  the  Cherubim.s 
are  a  fet  of  angels  who  know  moii,  and  the  Sera- 
phims  a  fet  of  angels  who  love  mofb.  Whether  this 
diftindion  be  not  altogether  imaginary,  I  {hall  not 
here  examine  ;  but  it  is  highly  probable,  that  among 
the  fpiritG  of  good  men,  there  may  be  fome  who  will 
be  more  plcafed  with  the  employment  of  one  l^acul:  y 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  207 

rhan  of  another,  and  this  perhaps  according  to  thofe 
vivtuoUs  habits  or  inclinations  which  have  here  taken 
the  deeped  root, 

:,  Vol.  VIII.  No.  600. 


A: 


CHILDREN. 

Mr.  Spectator, 


S  your  papers  is  part  of  the  equipage  of  the  tea** 
table,  i  conjure  you  to  print  what  I  now  write  to  you  ; 
for  I  have  no  other  vay  to  communicate  what  I  have 
to  fay  to  the  fair  fex,  on  the  moffc  important  circum- 
itances  of  life,  even  the  care  of  children.  I  do  not 
underltand  that  you  profefs  your  paper  is  always  to 
coniift  of  matters  which  are  only  to  entertain  the 
learned  and  polite,  but  that  it  may  agree  with  your 
defign  to  publifli  fome  which  may  tend  to  the  infor- 
mation of  mankind  in  general  ;  and  when  it  does  fo, 
you  do  more  than  writing  wit  and  humour.  Give  me 
leave  then  to  tell  you,  that  of  all  the  abufea  that  ever 
you  have  as  yet  endeavoured  to  reform,  certainly  not 
one  wanted  fo  much  your  afllftance  as  the  abufe  in 
nurfing  children.  It  is  unmerciful  to  fee,  that  a  wo- 
man endowed  with  all  the  perfections  and  bleflings  ot 
nature,  can,  as  foon  as  flic  is  delivered,  turn  off  her  in- 
nocent tender  and  helplefs  infant,  and  give  it  up  to  a 
woman  that  is  (ten  thoufand  to  one;  neither  in  health 
nor  good  condition,  neither  found  in  inind  nor  body, 
that  has  neither  honour  nor  reputation,  neither  Ioyq  nor 
pity  for  the  poor  babe,  but  more  regard  for  the  money 
than  the  whole  child,  and  never  will  take  farther  care 
of  it  than  what  by  all  the  encouragement  of  money  and 
prefcnts  Ihe  is  forced  to  ,  like  JE/op's  eaith,  which 
would  not  nurfe  the  plant  of  another  ground,  although 
never  fo  much  improved,  by  reafon  that  plant  was  not: 
of  its  own  produ<Slion.  And  hnce  another  child  is  no 
more  natural  to  a  nurfe,  than  a  plant  to  a  ftrangc  and 
different  grou;iv.,  hov/  can  it  be  fuppofed  that  the 
child  iliould  thii7€  I  And  if  it  thrives;  mult  it  not  im- 


a€)8  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

bibe  the  grofs  humours  and  qualities  of  the  nurfe,  like 
a  plant  in  a  diirerent  ground,  or  like  a  graft  upon  a  dif- 
ferent ftock  ?  Do  not  we  obferve,  that  a  lamb  fucking, 
a  goat  changes  very  much  its  nature,  nay,  even  its  fkin 
and  wool  into  the  goat  kind  ?  The  povv-er  of  a  nurfe 
over  a  child,  by  infufing  into  it,  with  hsr  milk,  her 
qualities  and  difpofition,  is  fufficiently  and  daily  ob- 
lerved.  Hence  carne  that  old  faying  concerning  an 
.ill-natured  and  malicious  fellow,  thr.«:  he  had  im.bibed 
Iiis  malace  with  his  nurfe's  milk,  or  that  feme  brute 
or  other  had  been  his  nurfe.  Hence  Romulus  and  Re- 
mus were  faid  to  have  been  nurfed  by  a  wolf,  1  eUphui 
the  fon  of  Hercules  by  a  hind,  Peleus  the  fen  of  Neptune 
by  a  mare,  and  ^^.ifilus  by  a  goat  j  not  that  they  had 
aaually  fucked  thofe  creatures,  as  fome  (impletons 
have  imagined,  but  that  their  nurfes  had  been  fuch  a 
nature  and  temper,  and  infufed  fuch  into  them. 

Many  inftances  may  be  produced  from  good  au- 
thorities and  daily  experience,  that  children  actually 
fuck  in  the  feveral  paihons  and  depraved  inclinations 
of  their  nurfes  ;  as  anger,  malace,  fear,  melancholy, 
fa.dnefs,  defire,  and  averficn.  This  Diodorus^  Lib,  2. 
witnefTeth  when  he  fpeaks,  faying,  that  NerQ  the  em- 
peror's nurfe,  had  been  very  much  addicted  to  drmk- 
ing  ;  which  habit  N5ro  received  from,  his  nurfe,  and 
"was  fo  very  particular  in  this  that  the  people  took  fo 
much  notice  of  it,  as  inltead  of  Tibeilus  Nero^  they  call- 
ed him  Biherius  Nero.  The  fame  Dicdcrus  alfo  relates 
cf  Caligula^  predecefTor  to  Ncro^  that  his  nurfe  ufed  to 
moiften  the  nipples  of  her  breaft  frequently  Vvith  blood, 
to  make  Caligula  taketlie  better  hold  of  them  ;  which, 
fays  Dicdorus^  was  the  caufe  that  made  him  fo  blood- 
ihirfty  and  cruel  all  his  life-time  after,  that  he  not  only- 
committed  frequent  murder  by  his  ov/n  hand,  but  like- 
wife  wifhed  that  all  human  kind  wore  but  one  neck, 
that  he 'might  have  the  pleafure  to  cut  it  ofF.  Such 
like  degeneracies  aftonifii  the  parents,  who  not  know- 
ing after  whom  the  child  can  take>feeone  incline  to 
Healing,  another  to  drinking,  cruelty,  flupidity  ;  yet 
all  thefeare  not  minded.  Nay,  it  is  eafy  to  demon- 
ftrate,  that  a  child,   although  it  be  born  from  the  befl 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  209 

01  parents,  may  be  corrupted  from  an  ill-tempered 
nurie.  How  many  children  do  we  fee  daily  brcugJ^t 
up  in  fits,  confumptions,  rickets,  &c.  merely  by  fuck- 
ing their  nurfes  when  in  a  paifion  or  fury  !  But  indeed 
almofl  any  diforder  of  the  nurfe  is  a  diforder  to  the 
child  ;  and  few  nurfes  can  be  found  in  this  town,  but 
what  labour  under  fome  diftemper  or  other,  the  firlt 
queition  that  is  generally  alked  a  young  woman  that 
wants  to  be  a  nurie,  why  flie  fliould  be  a  nurfe  to  oth- 
er peoples  children  ?  is  anfwered,  by  her  having  an  ill 
hulband,  and  that  flie  mud  make  iliift  to  live.  I  think 
now  this  very  anfwer  is  enough  to  give  any  body  a 
fliock,  if  duly  confidered  •,  for  an  ill  hufband  may,  on 
ten  to  one  if  he  does  not,  bring  home  to  his  wife  an  ilf 
diftemper,  or  at  leaft  vexation  and  diflurbance.  Be- 
fides  ilie  takes  the  child  out  of  mere  neceility,  her  food 
^^•ill  be  accordingly,  or  clfe  very  coarfe  at  lead  ; 
whence  proceeds  an  ill-conco6led  and  coarfe  food  foe 
tiie  child  ;  for  as  the  blood,  fo  is  the  milk.  Ancf 
hence,  I  am  very  well  aflurcd,  proceed  the  fcurvy,  tlie 
evil  and  many  other  diflempsrs,  I  beg  of  you,  for  the 
fake  of  many  poor  infants  that  may,  and  will  be  faveci 
by  weighing  this  cafe  ferioully,  to  exhort  the  people 
with  the  utmoit  vehemence  to  let  the  children  fuclc 
their  own  mothers,  both  for  the  benefit  of  mother  and 
child  ;  for  the  general  argument  that  a  mother  is 
weakened  by  giving  fuck  to  her  children,  is  vain  and 
fimple.  I  will  maintain  that  the  mother  grows  ftron- 
ger  by  it,  and  would  have  her  health  better  than  flis 
would  have  otherwife  :  She  will  find  it  the  greatefi: 
cure  and  prefcrvative  for  the  vapours  and  future  mif- 
carriasjes,  much  beyond  any  other  remedy  whatfoever. 
Her  children  will  be  like  giants  ;  whereas  otherwife 
they  are  but  living  fhadows,  and  like  unripe  fruit  : 
And  certainly  if  a  woman  is  ftrong^enough  to  bring 
forth  a  child,  fhe  is  beyond  all  doubt  ftrong  enough  to 
nurfe  it  afterwards,  it  grieves  me  to  obferve  and  con- 
fidcr  how  many  poor  children  are  daily  ruined  by 
carelefs  nurfes  ;  and  yet  how  tender  ougnt  they  to  be 
of  a  poor  infant,  fince  tlie  leafb  hurt  or  blow,  efpe^ially 
S  2 


210  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY:. 

upon  the  head,  may  make  Tt  fenfelefs,  flupid,  or  other* 
wife  miferable  for  ever  ! 

But  I  cannot  well  leave  this  fubje6t  ns  yet  •,  for  it 
feems  to  me  very  unnatural,  that  a  woman  that  has  fed 
a  child  as  part  of  herfelf  for  nine  months,  fhould  have 
no  defire  to  nurse  it  farther,  when  br®ught  to  light  be- 
fore her  eyes,  and  when  by  its  cries  it  implores  her 
affiftance  and  the  office  of  a  mother.  Do  not  the  very> 
cruelefl  of  brutes  tend  their  young  ones  with  all  the. 
care  and  delight  imaginable  ?  For  how  can  flie  be  call- 
ed a  mother  that  does  not  nurfe  her  young  ones  ?  The 
earth  is  called  the  mother  of  all  tilings,  not  becaufe  ilie 
produces,  but  becaufe  flie  maintains  and  nourimes 
what  (lie  produces.  The  generation  of  the  infant  is 
the  effeci  of  defire,  but  the  care  of  it  arg^ues  virtue  and 
choice.  I- am  not  ignorant  but  that  there  arc  fome 
cafes?of  neceiTity  where  a  mother  cannot  give  fuck;. 
and  then  out  of  two  evils  the  leaft  mud  be  chofen  :- 
But  there  are  fo  very  few,  that  I  am  fure  in  a  thoufand. 
there  is  hardly  one  real  inftance.  For  if  a  woman 
does  but  know  that  her  huiband  can  fpars  about- three 
or  fix  fhlllings  a  week  extraordinary  (although  this  is 
but  feldom  confidered)  fhe  certainly,  with  the  afiiift- 
ance  of  her  goflips,  will  foon  perfuade  the  good  man 
to  fend  the  child  to  nuif?,  and  eafily  impofe  upon  him 
by  pretending  indifpofition.  This  cruelty  is  fuppoit- 
€d  by  fafhion,  and  nature  gives  place  to  cuilom. 

Siry2'cu>s,  &c. 
Spectatob.,  Vol.  IIL  No.  246.  T* 


CHRISTIAN  CHURCH.       -  ; 

J\S  I  was  the  other  day  taking  a  folitary  walk  in  St. .  ) 
Faul'i>y\  indulged  my  thoughts  in  the  purl'uit  of  a  cer--  1 
tain  analogy  between  the  Fabrick  and  the  Chriftiaii.^ 
Church,  in  the  largefl  fenfe.  The  divine  order  and  ^ 
ceconomy  of  the  one  feemed  to  be  emblematically  fet  i 
forth  by  the  juft,  plain,  and  majeftic  arcliiteclure  of  ' 
the  other  :  And  as  the  one  con  fills  of  a  great  variety-  ^ 
®f  parts,  united  in  the  fhme  regular  defigii,  according  ^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  211 

to  the  trued  and  mod  exa<5t  proportion,  fo  the  other 
contains  a  decent  fubordination  of  members,  vari- 
ous facred  inftituticnsj  fublime  doclrines>  and  folid 
precepts  of  moridity  digelled  into  the  fame  dsfi^n,  and 
v ith  an  adiiirable  concurrence  tending  to  one  view, 
the  happincfs  an(i  exaltation  of  human  nature. 
.  In  the  midfl  of  my  contcmpLuion  I  beheld  a  fly  up- 
on one  o£  the  piJlars  ;  and  it  ftraightway  came  into 
my  head  that  this  fame  fly  was  a  Free-thinker.  For  it 
j-equired  fome  compreheuilon  in  the  eye  of  the  SpeSia- 
for,  to  take  in  at  one  view,  the  various  parts  of  the 
building,  in  order  to  obferve  their  fymmetry  and  de- 
fign.  But  to  the  fiy,  whofe  profpedt  was  confined  to  a 
little  part  of  one  of  the  ftoncs  of  a  fmgle  pillar,  the 
joint  beauty  of  the  whole,  or  the  diii:in£l  ufe  of  its 
parts,  were  inconfpicuous,  arad  nothing  could  appear 
but  fmali  inequalities  in  the  fm-facc  of  the  hewn  Itone, 
which,  in  the  view  of  that  infed,  feemcd  {o  man.y  de- 
formed rocks  and  precipices. 

The  thoughts  of  a  Free-thinker  arc  employed  on  cer- 
tain minute  particularities  of  religion,  the  dihiculty  of 
a  (ingle  text,  or  the  unaccountablentfsof  fome  llcp  of 
Providence  or  point  of  doclrinc  to  his  narrow  facul- 
ties ;  without  comprehending  the  feope  and  defign  of 
chriitianity,  the  per  left  ion.  to  which  k  raifed  tJie  hu- 
man nature,  the  liglit  it  hatli  fl-ied  abroad  in  the 
world,  and  the  ciofe  connc6lion  it  hath,  as  well  with 
the  good  of  public  focieties,  as  v/ith  thai  of  particular 
perlbns. 

Thjs  raif^^d  in  me  fome  reflections,  on  that  frame  or 
dif\:)oritici  v/hich  is  called  largenejs  tf  mind \  its  ne- 
ceiiity  towards  forming  a  true  judj:^ment  of  things^ 
au'.^,  where  tlie  foul  Is^  not  incurably  flintecl  by  na- 
ture, v/iiat  arc  the  likeliefb  methods  to  give  it  en- 
largement. 

it  is  evident  that  philofophy  doth  open  and  enlarge 
the  mind  by  the  j9;eneral  views  to  which  men  are  ha- 
bitui.ied  in  that  ^icudy,  and  by  the  contemplation  of 
moiw  nuinv;rous  and  diftant  objects  than  fail  wirhin 
the  fphere  of  mankhid,  in  the  ordinary  purfuits  of 
iiic.     H^nce  it  comes  to  prfs,  that  plulofophers  judge 


a  12  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

of  mod  things  very  difFerently  from  the  vulgar.  Some 
inftances  of  this  may  be  feen  in  the  Theateui  of  Plate, 
where  Socrates  makes  the  following  remarks  among 
others  of  the  like  nature. 

"  When  a  philcfopher  hears  ten  thoufand  acres 
mentioned  as  a  great  eftate,  he  looks  upon  it  as  an  in- 
confiderable  fpot,  having  been  ufed  to  contemplate  the 
whole  globe  of  earth  ;  or  when  he  beholds  a  man  ela- 
ted with  the  nobility  of  his  race,  becaufe  he  can  reck- 
on a  fevies  ©f  feven  rich  anceilors,  the  philofopher 
thinks  him  a  ftupid  ignorant  fellow,  whcfe  mind  can- 
not reach  to  a  general  view  of  human  uature,  which 
would  ihow  him  that  we  have  all  innumerable  ancef*- 
tors,  among  vv^hom  are  crowds  of  rich  and  poor, 
kings  and  Haves,  Greds  and  Barbarians.^^  Thus  far 
Socrates^  who  was  accounted  v/ifer  than  the  reft  of  the 
heathens,  for  nf)tions  which  approach  the  neareft  to 
chviHianity. 

As  ail  parts  nnd  branches  oi  philofophy  or  fpecula- 
tive  knowledge  are  ufeful  in  that  refpe£t,  aftronomy 
as  peculiarly  adapted  to  remedy  a  little  and  narrow 
fpirit  ;  in  that  fcience  there  are  good  reafons  affigned 
to  prove  the  fun  an  hundred  thoufand  times  bigger 
than  our  earth.  y.nd  the  diftance  of  the  ftars  fo  prodi- 
gious, that  a  cannon  bullet,  continuing  in  its  ordinar— 
ry  rapid  motion,  would  not  arrive  from  hence  at  the 
neareftof  them  for  th€  fpace  of  an  hundred  and  fifty 
thoufand  years.  Thefe  ideas  wonderfully  dilate  and 
expand  the  mind.  There  is  fometking  in  the  immen- 
fuy  of  this  diftance,,  that  ftiocks  and  overwhelms  the 
imagination  ;  it  is  too  big  for  the  grafp  of  a  human 
intelle6b  :  Eftates,  provinces,  and  kingdoms  vanifti  at 
its  prefence. 

But  the  Chrifiian  Religion  ennobleth  and  enlargetfe 
the  mind,  beyond  any  other  profeflion  or  fcience  wnat- 
foever..  Upon  that  fcheme,  while  the  earth  and  the 
tranGent  enjoymente  of  this  life  ihrink  into  the  nar- 
rovveft  dimenfions,  and  are  accounted  as  the  duji  of 
a  balance^  the  drop  of  a  bucket^  jCa,  lefs  than  nothing,  the 
intellectual  world  opens  wider  to  our  view  :  The 
perfetiions  of  the  Deity  the  nature  and  excellence 


I  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  213 

virtue^  the  dignity  of  the  human  foul,  are  difplayed 
in  the  iargelb  characters.  The  mind  of  man  feems  to 
adapt  itfeif  to  the  different  niiture  of  its  objects  ;  it  is 
contratled  and  debafed  by  being  converfant  in  little 
and  low  thinos,  and  feels  a  proportioniible  enlarement 
arifiJig  from  the  contemplation  of  thefe  great  and  fub- 
hme  ideas. 

The  greatnefs  of  tilings  is  comparative;  and  this 
d  :C5  not  hold  in  refpec^  of  extenfion,  but  like- 
Vvifi  in  refpeftt  of  dignity,  duration,  and  all  kinds 
of  perfc^Vion.  Ailronomy  opens  the  mind,  and 
,,.:  alters  our  judgment,  with  regard  to  the  magnitude  of 
extended  ikings  ;  but  chridianity  produces  an  univer- 
fal  greatntfs  of  foul.  Philofophy  increafeth  our  views 
in  every  refpefl:,  but  chriilianity  extends  them  to  a  de- 
gree beyond  the  light  of  nature. 

How  mean  mull  the  mod  exalted  potentate  upon 
earth  appear  to  that  Eye  v/hlch  takes  in  innumerable 
orders  of  blelTedfpirits/difFering  in  glory   and  perfec- 
tion !  How  little  muft  the  amufemehts  of  fenfe,  and 
the  ordinary  occupations  of  mortal  men,  feem  to  one 
jwho  is  engaged  in  fo  noble  a  purfuit,  as  the  aOlmlla- 
,tlon  of  himfdf  to  the  Deity,  v/hich  is   the  proper  em- 
..ployment  of  every  Chrillian! 

y.     And  the  improvement  which  grows  from  habitua- 
ting the  mind  to  the  comprehenhve  views  of  religion 
",mu"tl  not  be  thought  wholly  to  regard  the  underdafld- 
ing.     Nothing  is  of  greater  force  to  fubdui  the   inor- 
.  diuate  motions  of  the  he?,rt,  and  to  regulate  the  wilL 
Whether  a  man  be  aauated  by  liiis  pallions  or  his  rea- 
fon,  thefe   are  firfl  wrought  upon  by   fome  objc6l, 
.  which  ilirs  the  foul  in  pvoportion   to    its  apparent  di- 
menfions.     Hence  irreligious  men,  whole  fliort  prof- 
^  pedis  are  filled  with  earth,  and  fenfe,  and   mortal  life, 
;  are  invited,  by   thefe  mean  ideas,  to  aftlons  propor- 
'  tionably  little 'and  low.     But  a  mind  whofe  views  are 
enlightened  and  extended  by  religion,  is   animated  to 
nobler  purfuits  by  more  fubiime  and  remote  objedts. 

There  is  not  any  inftance  of  weaknefs  in  the/ree- 
^ thinkers  ihnt  r.ufes'  my  indignation  more,  than  their 
'pretending  to  ridicule'Chriftians;  as   men   of  narrow 


214        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.       ,     W.  ts 


imderftandings,  and  to  pafs  themfelves  upbn  the  wcfrl 
for  perfons  ot  fupericr  fenfe  and  more  enlarged  view 
But  1  leave  it  to  any  impartial  man  to   judge   wliic 
hath  the  nobfler  fentiments,   which  the  greater  viev/s 
he  whofe  notions  are  ftinted  to  a  few  miferable  inletj;  ^ 
of  fenfe,  or  he  whofe  fentiments  are  raifed   above  thr  "^ 
common  tafte   by  the  anticipation    of   thofe    delight 
which  will  fatiate  the  foul,  v;hen  the  whole  capacity  o 
her  nature   is  branched  out    into  new  faculties  ?    H 
who  looks  for  nothing  beyond  this  fliort  fpan  of  dura 
tion,  or  he  whofe  aims  are  co-extended  with  the  end 
lefs  length  of  eternity  ?  Ke  who  derives  his  fpirit  frorr' 
the  elementSj  or  he  who  thinks  it  was  infpired  by  the 
Almighty  ?  Guardian,  Vol.  I.  No.  70 


CHRISTIAN  RELIGION. 

Jl,  HE  great  received  articles  of  the  Chriftian  Relr 
gion  have  been  fo  clearly  proved  from  the  authority  o 
that  divine  Revelation  in  which  they  are  delivered,^ 
that  it  is  impofBble  for  thofe  who  have  ears  to  hear, 
and  eyes  to  fee,  not  to  be  convinced  of  them  ;  but 
were  it  poffible  for  any  thing  in  the  chriftian  faith,  to 
be  erroneous,  I  can  find  no  ill  confequences  in  adher- 
ing to  it.  The  great  points  of  the  incarnation  and  fuf- 
ferings  of  our  Saviour,  produce  naturally  fuch  habits 
of  virtue  in  tlie  mind  of  man,  that  I  fay,  fuppofing  it 
were  poflible  for  ug  to  be  miftaken  in  them,  the  infi- 
del himfelf  muft  at  leaft  allow,  that  no  other  fyftem  of 
religion  can  fo  effetSlually  contribute  to  the  hightening 
of  morality.  They  give  us  great  ideas  of  the  dignity  r 
of  human  nature,  and  of  the  love  which  the  Supreme  : 
Being  bears  to  his  creatures  •,  and  confequently  engage 
us  in  the  highefl  acls  of  duty  towards  our  Creator,  our 
neighbour,  and  ourfelves.  How  many  noble  arguments 
has  St.  Paul  raifed  from  the  chief  articles  of  our  reli- 
gion, for  the  advancing  of  morality  in  its  three  great 
branches  1  To  give  a  fmgle  example  in  each  kind, 
what  can  be  a  ftronger  motive  to  a  firm  truft  and  reli- 
ance on  the  mercies  of  our  Maker,  than  th-^  giving  up 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  215 

fon  to  fuffer  for  us  ?  What  can  make  us  love  and 
em  even  the  mod  inconfiderable  of  mankind,  more 
a  the  thought  that  Chriil  died  for  him  ?  or  what 
pcfe  us  to  f^t  a  ftritter  guard  upon  the  purity  of  our 
n  hearts,  than  our  being  members  of  Chrifl:,  and  a 
t  of  the  fociety  of  which  that  immaculate  perfon  is 
head  r  But  tliefe  are  only  a  fpccimen  of  thofe  ad- 
rablc  enforcements  of  morality  which  the   Apoftle 

drawn  from  the  hiftory  our  blefied  Saviour. 
If  our  modern  inlidcis  confidcrcd  tlu  fe  matters  with 
it  candour  and  ferioufnefs  which  tliey  dcfcrve,  we 
mid  not  fee  them  act  with  fuch  a  fpint  of  bitternefs, 
o^crancc,  and  malice.  They  would  not  be  raifing 
h  infignificant  cfivils,  doubts,  and  fcruples,  as  may 
ftarted  againll  every  thing  that  is  not  capable  of 
thematical  demonilration,  in  order  to  unfcttle  the 
nds  of  the  ignorant,  diRurb  the  public  peace,  fubvert 
ity,  and  throw  all  things  into  confufion  and  dil- 
ler.  If  none  of  thcfc  reficclions  can  have  any  in- 
ence  on  them,  there  is  one  that  perhaps  may,  be- 
ife  it  is  adapted  to  their  vanity,  by  wliich  they  feem 
be  guided,  much  more  than  their  reafon.  I  would 
;refore  have  them  confider  that  the  wift-ft  .lud  bell  of 
all  ages  of  the  work!,  have  been  thofe  who 
ed  up  to  the  religion  of  their  country,  when  they 
V  nothing  in  it  to  oppofe  morality,  and  to  the  belt 
hts  they  had  of  the  divine  nature.  Pythagcras's  firft 
e  dire6ls  us  to  wordiip  tlie  Gods,  as  it  is  ordp/med  by 
v;  for  that  is  the  rnoft  r.atural  interpretation  of  the 
icept.  Sccrates,  vvho  was  the  mod  renowned  among 
I  Iieathens,  both  for  wifdom  and  virtue,  iu  his  lait 
)ment5  defires  his  friends  to  ofier  a  cock  to  ^€fcula- 
/,  doubtlefs  out  of  a  fubmiilive  deference  to  the  ef- 
)liihed  vvorfliip  of  his  country.  Xer.ophoTj  tells  us, 
It  his  Prince  (v/hom  he  iets  forth  as  a  pattern  of  per- 
ilion)  when  he  found  his  death  approaching,  offered 
;ririce3  on  the  mountains  to  yie  Perfean  Jupiter^  and 
I  fun>  according  to  the  cujlom  of  the  Perjians  ;  for  thofe 
:  the  words  of  the  hillorian.  Nay,  the  Epicureans 
d  atomical  philofophers  (bowed  a  very  remarkable 
)defty  in  this  particular  ,  for  though  the  Being  of 


216  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ,.] 

a  God  was  entirely  repugnant  to  their  fcbemes  of  na- 
tural phlloiophy,  they  contented  themfelves  with  tlW 
denial  of  a  Providence,  averting  at  the  fame  time  ih6\ 
exiftence  of  Gods  in  general,  becaufe  they  would  not 
{hock  the  common  belief  of  mankind,  and  the  religion 
of  their  country.  J 

Spectator,  Vol.  III.  No.   i86.  Lij 


T 


CHRISTIANS  fdeir  advantage,)  | 


countries,  {o  renowned  of  old,  in  the  moil  eleva-  | 
odons  of  theology  and  morality  ?  Is  it  the  effe£t  | 
ir  own  parts  and  indufcrv  }    Have   our   common  \ 


^^  O  one  who  regards  things  with  a  philofophicali?; 
eye,  and  hath  a  foul  capable  ot  being  delighted  withf 
the  fenfe  that  truth  and  knowledge  prevail  among  men,- 
it  mull  be  a  grateful  rcfle6lion  to  think  that  the  fu- 
blimeft  truths,  which  amoi^g  the  heathens  only  here  and 
there  one  of  brighter  parts  and  more  leifure  than  ordi- 
nary could  attain  to,  are  nov/  grown  familiar  to  thel 
meanefl  inhabitants  of  thefe  nations.  1 

Whence  came  this  lurprifing  change,  that    regions  |j 
formerly  inhabited   by  ignorant    and   favage    people, 
fhould  now  outfhine  ancient  Greece ^  and  the  other  eaf- 
tern  c 
ted  no 

of  our  own  parts  and  induicry 
mechanics  more  refin.^d    underfcandings  than  the    an- 
cient philoibphers  ?  It  is  owing  to  the  God  of  truth,^^; 
who  came  down  from  Heaven,  and  ccndefcended   to 
behimfelf  our  teacher.     It  is  as  we  are  ChriJIians,  that. 
we  profefs  more  excellent  and  divine  truths   than  the 
reft  of  mankind. 

If  there  be  any  oi  xht  frce-thi/rkers  who  are  not  direct 
Atheifts,  charity  would  incline  one  to  believe  them  ig- 
norant of  what  is  here  advanced  :  And  it  is  for  their 
information  that  I  write  thi^  paper,  the-defign  of  which 
is  to  compare  the  ideas  th»t  Cliriilians  entertain  of  the 
being  and  attributes  of  a  God,  with  the  grofs  notions 
of  the  heathen  world.  Is  it  poflible  for  the  mind  of 
man  to  conceive  a  more  augult  idea  of  the  Deity,  than 
is  fet  forth  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  ?  i  fhidi  throw  to- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        217 

gether  fome  pafTages  relating  to  this  fubjedl:,  which  I 
yropofe  only  as  philcfophical  fentiments,  to  be  confid* 
ered  by  Tl  free-thinker. 

"  Though  there  be  that  are  called  Gods,  yet  to  113 
there  is  but  one  God.  He  made  the  Heaven  and 
Heaven  of  Heavens,  v*ith  all  their  hoft  ;  the  earth  and 
all  things  that  are  therein  ;  the  feas  and  all  that  1$ 
therein  :  He  faid,  Let  them  be,  and  it  was  fo.  He  hath 
ftrctched  forth  the  Heavens.  He  hath  founded  the 
earth,  and  hung  it  upon  nothing.  He  hath  fhut  up 
the  fea  with  doors,  and  faid,  Hitherto  flialt  thou  come, 
and  no  farther  ;  and  here  fhall  thy  proud  waves  be 
(laid.  The  Lord  is  an  invifible  Ipirit,  ni  whom  we  live 
and  move,  and  have  our  being.  He  is  the  fountain  of 
life.  He  preferveth  man  and  beaft.  He  giveth  food 
to  all  fieOi.  In  his  hand  is  the  foul  of  every  living 
thing,  and  the  breath  of  all  mankind.  The  Lord  mak- 
eth  poor,  and  maketh  rich.  He  bringeth  low,  and 
lifteth  up.  He  killeth  and  he  maketh  alive.  He  wound- 
cth,  and  he  healeth.  By  him  kings  reign,  and  princes 
jdecree  juftice  ;  and  not  a  fparrow  falleth  to  the  ground 
without  him.  AH  angels,  authorities  and  powers  are 
fubje£t  to  him.  He  appointeth  the  moon  for  feafons, 
and  the  fun  knoweth  his  going  down.  He  thunder- 
eth  with  his  voice,  and  diredleth  it  under  the  whole 
Heaven,  and  his  lightning  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
Fire  and  hail,  fnow  and  vapour,  wind  and  ftorm,  ful- 
fil his  word.  The  Lord  is  king  for  ever  and  ever,  and 
his  dominion  is  an  everlafting  dominion.  The  earth 
and  the  heavens  (hall  perifh  -,  but  thou,  O  Lord,  re- 
malneft.  They  all  (hall  wax  old,  as  doth  a  garment, 
and  as  a  vefture  flialt  thou  fold  them  up,  and  they  {hall 
be  changed  -,  but  thou  art  the  fame,  and  thy  years  (hall 
have  no  end.  God-is  perftcl:  in  knowledge  j  his  un- 
^erflanding  is  infinite.  He  is  the  father  of  lights.  He 
looketh  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  feeth  under  the 
whole  Heaven.  The  Lord  beholdeth  all  the  children 
of  men  from  the  place  of  his  habitation,  and  confider- 
eth  all  their  works.  He  knoweth  our  down-fitting 
and  uprifing.  He  compafleth  our  path,  and  counteth 
<?ur  iteps,     Jle  is  acquainted  with  all  our  ways  ;  and 


218        ADDISONIAN   MISCELLANY. 

when  we  enter  our  clofet,  and  ftiut  our  door,  he  feetli 
us.  He  knoweth  the  things  that  come  into  our  mind, 
every  one  of  them  :  And  no  thought  can  be  wlth- 
holden  from  him.  The  Lord  is  good  to  all,  and  his 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works.  He  is  a  father 
of  the  fatherlefs,  and  a  judge  of  the  widow.  He  is  the 
God  of  peace,  the  father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of 
all  comfort  and  confolation.  The  Lord  is  great  ;  and 
we  know  him  not  -,  his.greatnefs  is  unfearchable.  Who 
but  he  hath  meafured  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand,  and  meted  out  the  heavens  with  a  fpan  ?  Thine, 
O  Lord,  is  the  greatnefs,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
and  the  victory,  and  the  majefty.  Thou  art  very  great, 
thou  art  clothed  with  honour.  Heaven  is  thy  throne, 
and  earth  is  thy  footftool." 

Can  the  mind  of  a  philofopher  rife  to  a  more  juft 
and  magnificeht,  and  at  the  fame  time  a  more  amiable 
idea  of  the  Deity  than  is  here  fet  forth  in  the  flroiigeft 
images  and  moft  emphatical  language  ?  And  yet  this 
is  the  language  of  fhepherds  and  fifhermen.  The  illit- 
erate Jews  and  poor  perfecuted  Chriftians  retained 
thefe  noble  fentiments,  while  the  polite  and  powerful 
nations  of  the  earth  were  given  up  to  that  fottifh  fort 
of  worftiip  of  which  the  following  elegant  defcription  • 
is  extracted  from  one  of  the  infpired  writers. 

"  Who  hath  formed  a  God,  and  molten  an  image 
that  is  profitable  for  nothing  ?  TRe  fmlth  with  the 
tongs  both  worketh  in  the  coals,  and  falhioneth  it  with 
hammers,  and  worketh  it  with  the  ftrength  of  his  arms  : 
Yea,  he  is  hungry,  and  his  ftrength  faileth.  He  drink- 
cth  no  water  and  is  faint.  A  man  planteth  an  afh, 
and  the  rain  doth  nourifti  it.  He  burneth  part  thereof 
in  the  fire.  He  roafteth  flefh.  He  warmeth  himfelf. 
And  the  refidue  thereof  he  maketh  a  God.  He  fail- 
eth down  unto  it,  and  worfliippeth  it,  and  prayeth  un- 
to it,  and  faith,  deliver  me,  for  thou  art  my  God.  None 
confidereth  in  his  heart,  I  have  burnt  part  of  it  in  the 
fire  *,  yea,  alfo,  I  have  baked  bread  upon  the  coals  there- 
of -,  I  hav<  roafted  flefh  and  eaten  it :  And  fhail  i  make 
the  refidue  thereof  an  abomination  ?  Shall  I  fall  down 
to  the  ftock  of  a  tree  ?'* 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        2ig 

In  fuch  circumflances  as  thefe,  for  a  man  to  declare 
for. free -thinking,  and  difcngage  himfelf  from  the  yoke 
of  idolatry,  were  doing  honour  to  human  nature,  and 
a  work  well  becoming  the  great  aflertors  of  reafon. 
But  in  a  church  where  our  adoration  is  dire£led  to  the 
Supreme  Being,  ai\d  (to  (ixy  ^^^  lead)  where  is  noth- 
ing cither  in  the  obje^l  or  manner  of  vvorfliip  that 
contradids  the  Ught  of  nature,  there  under  the  pretence 
of  free-thinking,  to  rail  at  the  religious  inftitutions  o£ 
their  country,  ihoweth  an  undiftinguifhing  genius,  that 
millakes  oppofition  for  freedom  of  thought.  And,  in- 
deed, notwithdanding  the  pretences  of  fome  few 
Timon^om- /ree-t/!inkers,l  can  hardly  think  there  are 
men  lo  Rapid  and  inconfiftent  with  themfelves,  as  to 
have  a  ferious  regard  for  natural  religion,  and  at  the 
fame  time  ufe  their  utmofk  endeavours  to  deftroy  the 
credit  of  thofe  facred  writings,  which,  as  they  have  been 
the  means  of  bringing  thefe  parts  of  the  world  to  the 
knowledge  of  natural  religion,  fo  in  cafe  they  lofe  their 
autlicrity  over  the  minds  of  men,  we  ihould  of  courfe 
liiik  into  the  fame  idolatry  which  we  fee  pra£tifed  by 
other  unenlightened  nations. 

If  a  perfon  who  exerts  himfelf  in  the  modern  way  of 
free-thinking  be  not  a  flupid  idolator,  it  is  undeniable 
that  he  contributes  all  he  can  to  the  making  other  men 
fo,  either  by  ignorance  or  defign  ;  which  lays  him  un- 
der the  dilemma,  I  will  not  fay  of  being  a  fool  or  knave, 
but  of  incurring  the  contempt  or  detellation  of  man- 
kind. 

Guardian,  Vol.  II.  No.  88. 

The  noble  genius  of  Fir^il  would  have  been  exalted 
ftiil  higher,  if  he  had  the  advantage  of  chriftianity. 
According  to  our,  fcheme  of  thoughts,  if  the  word  me- 
mores  in  the  front  bf  this  paper  were  changed  into  fimiUs^ 
it  v.'ould  have  very  much  heightened  the  motive  of  vir- 
tue in  the  reader.  To  do  good  and  great  adlions  mere- 
ly to  gain  reputation,  and  tranfmit  a  name  to  pofteri- 
ty,  is  a  vicious  appetite,  and  will  certainly  enfhare  the. 
perfon  who  is  moved  by  it,  on  fome  occafions,  into  a 
falfe  delicacy  for  fear  of  reproach  i  and  atothers,  into 


32©         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

jirtifices  which  taint  his  mind,  though  they  may  enlai'ge 
his  fame.  The  endeavour  to  make  men  hke  you,  ra- 
ther than  mindful  of  you,  is  not  fubjecl  to  fuch  ill  con» 
fequences,  but  moves  with  its  rev/ard  in  its  own  hand  v 
or,  to  fpeak  more  in  the  language  of  the  world,  a  man 
with  this  aim  as  happy  is  as  a  man  in  an  ofhce,  that  is 
paid  out  of  money  under  his  own  dire6lion.  There 
have  been  very  worthy  examples  of  this  felf- denying 
virtue  among  us  in  this  nation  ;  but  I  do  not  know  of 
a  nobler  example  in  this  cafe,  than  that  of  the  late  Mr. 
£cyle,  who  founded  a  lecture  for  the  Proof  cf  the  Chrij- 
tian  religion  agairji  aiheijfs^  a7id  other  noicrisus  ir.Ji.'!els.  The 
reward  of  perpetual  memory  amongfl  men,  which 
might  pcflibly  have  fcmeiluic  in  this  fublime  charity, 
was  certainly  confidered  but  in  a  fecond  degree  ;  and 
Mr  Boyle  had  it  in  liis  thoughts  to  make  men  imitate 
him,  as  well  as  fpeak  of  him,  when  he  was  goneoiFour 

Tlie  world  has  received  much  good  from  this  infti- 
tution  ;  and  the  noble  emulation  of  great  mxcn  on  the 
inexhauftible  fubje£l  of  the  effence,  praife,  and  attri- 
butes of  the  Deity,  has  had  the  natural  effedl:,  which 
always  attends  this  kind  of  contemplation  ;  to  wit, 
that  he  who  writes  upon  it  with  a  fmcere  heart,  very 
eminently  excels  whatever  he  has  produced  on  any 
other  occafion.  It  eminently  appears  from  this  obfer- 
vation,  that  a  particular  bleffing  has  been  bellowed  on 
this  Le£tu^e.  This  great  philofopher  provided  for  us, 
after  his  death,  an  employment  not  only  fuitable  to  our 
condition,  but  to  his  own  at  the  fame  time.  It  is  a 
light  fit  for  angels,  to  behold  the  benefaftor  and  the 
perfons  obliged,  not  only  in  different  places,  but  under 
different  beings,  employed  in  the  fame  work. 

This  worthy  man  fludied  nature,  and  traced  all  her 
ways  to  thofe  of  her  unfearchable  Author.  V/hen  he 
had  found  him,  he  gave  this  bounty  for  the  praife  and 
contemplation  of  him.  To  one  who  has  not  run  through 
regular  courfes  of  philofophical  inquiries  (the  other 
learned  labourers  in  this  vineyard  will  forgive  mc)  I 
cannot  but  principally  recommend  the  book,  intitlcd, 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  223 

T-hyftco  Theology ;  printed  for  William  Innjs  in  St.   Paul's 
Church  Yard. 

It  is  written  by  Mr.  Durhamy  Re£lor  of  Vpminjler  in 
Eflex.  I  do  not  know  what  Vpminjler  is  worth  ;  but  I 
am  fure,  had  I  the  beft  living  in  England  to  give,  I 
(bould  rot  think  the  addition  of  it  fufficient  acknowl- 
edgement of  his  merit,  efpecially  fmce  I  am  informed, 
th.it  the  fimplicity  of  his  life  is  agreeable  to  his  ufeful 
knowledge  and  learning. 

The  praife  of  this  author  feems  to  me  to  be  the  grcat 
perfpicuity  and  method  which  render  his  work  intelli-- 
gible  and  pleafing  to  people  who  are  ftrangers  to  fuch 
inquiries,  as  well  as  to  the  learned.  It  is  a  very  defir- 
abie  entertainment  to  find  occafions  of  pleafure  and 
fatisfadion  in  thofe  objects  and  occurrences  which  we 
have  all  our  lives,  perhaps,  overlooked,  or  beheld  with- 
out exciting  any  refledlions  that  made  us  wifer  or  hap- 
pier^  The  plain  good  man  does,  as  with  a  wand, 
{how  us  the  wonders  and  fpe£lacles  in  all  nature,  and 
tlie  particular  capacities  with  which  all  living  crea- 
tures are  endowed  for  their  feveral  ways  of  life  ;  how 
the  organs  of  creatures  are  made  according  to  the  dif- 
ferent paths  in  which  they  are  to  move,  and  provide 
for  themfelves  and  families  ;  whether  they  are  to  creep, 
to  leap,  to  fwim,  to  fly,  to  walk  ;  whether  the)^,are  to 
inhabit  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  the  coverts  of  the 
woods,  the  muddy  or  clear  ftreams,  to  howl  in  forefts, 
or  converfe  in  cities.  All  life,  from  that  or  a  worm 
to  that  of  a  man,  is  explained  •,  and,  as  I  may  fo  ipeak, 
the  wondrous  works  of  the  creation,  by  the  obferva- 
tions  of  this  author,  lie  before  us  as  obje£ls  that  cre- 
ate love  and  admiration,  which  without  fuch  explica- 
tions, flrike  us  only  with  confufion  and  amazement. 

The  man  who,  before  he  had  this  book,  drefled  and 
went  out  to  loiter  and  gather  up  fomething  to  enter- 
tain a  mind  too  vacant,  no  longer  needs  news  to  give 
himfelf  amufement  5  the  very  air  he  breathes  fuggefts 
abunuant  matter  for  his  thoughts.  He  will  confider 
that  he  has  begun  another  day  of  life,  to  breathe  with 
all  other  creatures  in  the  fame  mafs  of  air,  vapours 
and  clouds,  which  furround  our  globe  j  and  pf  all  the 
T  2- 


222  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY 

numberlefs  animals  that  live  by  receiving  momentary 
life,  or  rather  momentary  and  new  reprieves  froiift 
death,  at  their  noftrils,  he  only  ftands  ere6t,  confcious 
and  contemplative  of  the  benefadtion. 

A  man  who  is  not  capable  of  philofophical  reflec- 
tions from  his  own  education,  will  be  as  much  pleafed 
as  with  any  other  good  news  which  he  has  not  before 
heard  :  The  agitations  of  the  wind,  and  the  falling  of 
the  rains,  are  what  are  abfolutely  neceffary  for  his  wel- 
fare and  accommodation.  This  kind  of  reader  will  be- 
hold the  light  with  a  new  joy,  and  a  fort  of  reafona- 
ble  rapture  :  He  will  be  led  from  the  appendages 
which  attend  and  furround  our  globe,  to  the  contem- 
plation of  the  globe  itfelf,  the  diftribution  of  the  earth 
and  waters,  the  variety  and  quantity  of  all  things  pro- 
vided for  the  tifes  of  our  world  :  Then  will  his  con- 
templation, which  was  too  diffufed  and  general,  be  lei 
down  to  particulars,  to  different  foils  and  mowldsy  to 
the  beds  of  minerals  and  ftones,  into  caverns  and  vol- 
canos,  and  then  again  to  the  tops  of  mountains,  and. 
then  again  to  the  £elds  and  valleys. 

When  the  author  has  acquainted  his  reader  with 
the  place  of  his  abode,  he  informs  him  of  his  capacity 
to  make  himfelf  eafy  and  happy  in  it,  by  the  gift  o£ 
fenfes,  by  their  ready  organs,  by  fhowing  him  the 
ftru6lure  of  thofe  organs,  the  difpofition  of  the  ear  for 
the  receipt  of  founds,  of  the  noftril  for  fmell,  the,: 
iongue  mr  tafte,  the  nerves  to  avoid  harms  by  our  feel-^ 
ing,  and  the  eye  by  our  fight. 

The  whole  v;ork  is  concluded  (as  it  is  the  fum  of 
fifteen  fermons  in  proof  of  the  exiftence  of  the  Deity) 
with  refle6lions  which  apply  each  diftindt  part  of  it  to 
an  end,  for  which  the  author  may  hope  to  be  rewarded 
with  an  immortality  much  more  to  be  delired,  than 
that  of  remaining  in  eternal  honour  among  all  the  fons 
of  men.  Guardian,  Vol.  II.  No.  175. 

CICERO'S  Letters  to  his  Wije, 

Jt   HE  wits  of  this  ifland,  for  above  fifty  years  paft| 
initead  of  corre^ing  the  vices  of  the  age,  have  done 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ^23. 

all  they  could  to  inflame  them.  Marriage  has  been 
one  of  the  common  topics  of  ridicule  that  every  flage. 
fcribbler  hath  found  his  account  in  ;  for  whenever 
there  is  an  occafion  for  a  clap,  an  impertinent  jeft  upon 
matrimony  is  fuie  to  raife  it.  This  hath  been  attend* 
ed  with  very  pernicious  confequcnces.  IMany  a  coun- 
try 'Squire,  upon  his  fetting  up  for  a  man  of  the  town, 
has  gone  home  in  the  gaiety  of  his  heart,  and  beat  his 
wife.  A  kind  hufband  hath  been  looked  u\rc\\  as  a 
clown,  and  a  good  wife  as  a  domefHc  animal,  unfit  for 
the  company  or  converfation  of  the  .^^j^-  Mcnde.  In 
fliort,  Separate  beds,  fdent  tables,  and  folitary  homes, 
have  been  introduced  by  your  men  of  wit  aid  pleafure 
Of  the  age. 

As  I  (hall  always  make  it  mv  bulrneis  to  ilem  the 
torrents  of  pvejudice  and  vice,  I  Ihall  take  particular 
care  :o  put  an  hon^lt  father  of  a  family  in  countenance, 
and  endeavour  to  remove  all  the  evils  out  of  that  (late 
of  life  which  is  either  the  moii  happy  or  moil  mifera- 
ble  that  a  man  can  be  placed  in.  in  order  to  this,  let 
us,  if  you  pleafe,  confider  the  wits  and  well  bred  per- 
fons  of  former  times.  I  have Tnown  in  another  paper, 
that  Pliny,  who  was  a  man  of  the  grcatcft  genius,  as 
well  as  cf  the  firlt  quality  of  his  age,  did  l.-^l  think  it- 
below  him  to  be  a  kind  huiband,  and  to  treat  his  wife 
as  a  friend,  companion,  and  counfellor.  I  fhall  give 
the  like  inilance  of  another,  who  in  all  refpe6ts  was  a 
much  greater  man  than  Pl':ny,  and  hath  writ  ^  whole 
book  of  letters  to  his  wife.  They  are  not  fo  full  of 
turns  as  thofe  tranilatcd  out  of  the  former  author,  who 
writes  very  much  like  a  modern,  but  are  full  of  that 
beautiful  rnnplicity  which  is  altogether  natural,  and  is 
the  dillinguilhing  character  of  the  belt  ancient  wri- 
ters. The  author  I  am  fpeaking  of,  is  Cicero,  vvlio,  in 
the  following  pafTages  which  I  have  taken  out  of  his- 
letters,  (hows,  that  he  he  did  not  think,  it  inconfiftent 
with  the  politenefs  of  his  manners,  or  the  greatnefs  of 
his  wifdom,  to  ftand  upon  record  in  his  domeilic  char- 
ader. 

Ihefe  letters  were  written  in  a  time  when  he.  was 


2  24  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  I 

banlihcd  from  his  country,  by  a  faclion  that  then  pre- 
vailed at  Rome. 

CICERO  TO  TERENTIA. 

I. 

"  I  learn  from  the  Letters  of  my  friends,  as  well  an 
from  common  report,  that  you  give  incredible  proofs 
of  virtui  and  fortitude,  and  that  you  are  indefatigable 
i;i  all  kinds  oi  good  offices.     How  unhappy  a  man  am 
I,  that  a  woman  of  your  virtue,  conftancy,  honour,  and 
good  nature,  fliould  fall  into   fo  great   diftrefies    upon 
mv  account  !    and*  that  my  dear  'fullicla  iliould    be  fo 
iriQch  afilic^ed  for  the  fake   of  a  father  with  whom  fbe 
had  once    fo  much  reafon  to  be  pleafed  !   How  can  I 
njcntion  little   Cicero^  whofe  firil  knowledge  of  things 
began  v.dth  the  fc-nfc  of  his  own  mifery  !  If  all  thi  •  had 
happeaed  by   the   decrees  of  his   fate,  as  you  would 
kindly  perfuade  me,  i  could  have  borne   it  :  but  alas  ! 
it  is  ail  befallen    me    by    my    ov/n    indifcretion,    who 
thought  I  was  beloved  by  thofe  that   eiivied   me,    and 
did  not  join  with  them   who  fought   my  friendihip. — 
At  preft:nt,  fmce  my  friends  bid  me  hope,  I  fhall  take 
care  of  m^  health,  tnat  I  may  enjoy  the  benefit  of  your 
affectionate  fervices.     Plancius  hopes  we    may  fome. 
time  or  other  come  together  into  Italy.     If  ever  I  live 
to  fee  that  day,  if  I  ever  return  to  your  dear  embraces, 
in  ihortfif  ever  I  again  recover  you  and  myfelf,  I  fhall 
think  our  conjugal  piety  very  well  rewarded. — As  for 
what  you  write  to  me  about  felling  your  eftate,  con-  - 
fider  (my  dear  Terentia)  confider,  alas  !  what  would  be    j 
the  event  of  it.     If  our  prefent  fortune   continues  to  •',' 
opprefs  us,  what  will  become  of  our  poor  boy  1  My    ' 
tears  flow  fo  fall,  that  I  am  not  able  to  write  any  far- -J 
ther  ;  and  I  would  not  willingly  make  you  weep  with  - 1 
me.     Let  us  take  care  not  to  undo  the  child  that  is  al-    i 
ready  undone.     If  we  can  leave  him  any  thing,  a  little  '  < 
virtue    will    keep  him    from  want,    and  a  little  fQr-i-| 
tune    raife    him    in    the   world.     Mind  your   health^^. 
and  let  mc  know  frequently  what  you  are  doing.  Rc= 
member  me  to  Tulliola  and  Cicero,'* 


I  ADDISONIAN  MI5CF.LLANY.  225 

II. 

^*  Do  not  fancy  that  I  write  longer  ktters  to  any  one 
than  to  yourfelf,  unlcfs  when  I  chance  to  receive  a 
longer  letter  from  another,  which  I  am  indifpenfably 
obliged  to  anfwer  in  every  particular.  The  truth  of 
it  is,  I  have  no  fubjed:  for  a  letter  at  prcfent  •>  aiid  avS 
my  affairs  now  (land,  there  is  nothing  more  painful  to 
me  than  writing.  As  for  yon,  and  our  dear  -Tvllida^  I 
nnot  write  to  without  abundance  of  tears  -,  for  I  fee 
both  of  you  miferable-,  whom  I  alwayr,  uiHied  to  be 
happy,  and  whom  I  ^^ught  to  have  made  fo. — I  mud 
acknowledge,  you  have  done  ev;:ry  thing  for  me  with 
the  utmod  fortitude,  and  the  utmoft  atreclion  \  nor  in- 
deed is  it  more  than  I  expeded  from  you  ;  though  at 
the  fam.e  time  it  is  a  great  aggravation  of  my  ill  fortune, 
that  the  aillidlions  I  fufFer  can  be  releived  only  by 
thofe  which  you  undergo  for  my  fake.  For  honelt 
Valerius  has  written  me  a  letter,  which  I  couid  not  read 
without  weeping  very  bitterly  ;  wherein  he  gives  me 
an  account  of  the  puolic  proceihon  which  you  have 
made  for  me  at  Rome.  Alas  !  my  deared  life,  muft 
then  Tereniia,  the  darling  of  my  foul,  whcfe  favour  and 
recommendations  have  been  fo  often  fought  by  others 
— mud  my  lerer.tia  droop  under  the  weight  of  forrow^ 
ppear  in  the  habit  of  a  mourner,  pour  out  floods  of 
tears,  and  all  this  for  my  fake  :  for  my  fake,  who  have 
uiidone  my  family,  by  confulting  the  lafety  of  others  ? 
As  for  what  you  write  about  felling  your  houfe,  I  am 
very  much  aflh£l:ed,  that  what  is  laid  out  upon  my  ac- 
count may  any  way  reduce  you  to  mifery  and  want. 
If  we  can  bring  about  our  defign,  we  may  indeed  re- 
cover every  tiling  ;  but  if  fortune  pcrfids  in  perfccut- 
jng  us,  how  can  I  think  of  your  facrificing  for  me  the 
poor  remainder  of  your  polreiTions  ?  No,  my  dearelt 
life,  let  me  beg  you  to  let  thofe  bear  my  expences  who 
are  able,  and  perhaps  willing  to  do  it  *,  and  if  you 
would  fliew  your  love  to  me,  do  not  injure  your  health, 
which  is  already  too  much  impaired.  You  prefent 
yourfcif  before  my  eyes  day  and  night ;  I  fee  you  la- 
bouring amidd  innumerable  dilFicukies  ;  I  am  afraid 


226  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

leflyou  n;ioulLi  fmk  under  tlicm  :  but  I  find  in  you  all  ^^ 
the  qimlifications  that  are    nccciliiry    to   fupport  yoa  j  £ 
be  fure  therefore  to  cherlfh  your  health,  that  you  maV 
comp-^.fs  the  end  of  your  hopes  and  your   endeavours'.' 
Farewell,  my  Tere?3iia.  mv  heart's  defire,  farewel.         '   i, 

^  m.  -^'l 

"  ^RISTOCRITUS  hath  delivered  to  me  three  oi  |;,J 
your  letters,  vi^hich  I  have  almoft  defaced  with  my'  ;. 
tears.  Oh  !  my  Terentiu  I  am  confumed  with  grief,!.'^ 
and  feel  the  weight  of  your  fuilerings  more  than  of  my 
own.  I  am  ijore  mifcrable  than  you  are,  notwith- 
llanding  you  are  very  m.uch  fo  *,  .:.id  that  for  this  rea 


(i 


rr 


city 

therefore  overwhelmed  not  only  v/ith  grief,  but  with 
fname.  I  am  aHiamed,  that  I  did  not  <Jo  my  utmoft  -j 
for  the  heft  of  wives,  and  the  dearefl  of  children.  You 
areever  prefent  before  my  eyes  in  your  miourning,  your 
afFiidion,  and  your  fickntfs.  Amidft  all  which,  there 
fcarce  appears  to  me  the  lead  glimmering  of  hope- 
However,  as  long  as  you  hope,  I  will  not  defpair. — I 
will  do  what  you  advife  me.  I  have  returned  my 
thanks  to  thofe  friends  whom  you  mientioned,  and  have 
let  them  know,  that  you  have  acquainted  me  with  their 
good  ofiices.  I  am  fenfible  of  P^/o's  extraordinary 
zeal  and  endeavours  to  ferve  me.  Oh  1  would  the 
Gods  grant  that  you  and  I  might  live  together  in  thj 
enjoyment  of  fucli  a  fon-in-law,  and  of  our  dear  chil- 
dren.— As  for  what  you  write  of  your  coming  to  rrie, 
if  I  defireit,  I  would  rather  you  fliould  be  where  you 
are,  becaufe  I  know  you  are  my  principal  ag^nt  at 
Rome.  If  you  fucceed,  I  fhall  come  to  you  :  if  not — 
But  I  need  fay  no  more.  Be  careful  of  your  health, 
and  be  aiiured,  that  nothing  is,  or  ever  was,  fo  dear 
to  me  as  yourfelf.  Farewel,  my  Terentia  *,  I  fancy 
that  I  fee  you,  and  therefore  cannot  command  my 
weaknefs  lo  far  as  to  refrain  from  tears."" 
IV. 
*"'  I  do  not  write  to  vou  as  often  as  I  might,  becaufe, 
notwith Handing  I  amafflided  at  all  times,  I  aw  quite 


t 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  227 

'overcome  v/Itli  forrow  whilft  I  am  writing  to  ycu,  or 
Mcling  any  letters  that  I  receive  from  you. — If  thefe 
:vils  are  not  to  be  removed,  I  mud  defire  to  fee  you, 
my  deareft  life,  as  foon  as  polTible,  and  to  die  in  your 
embraces;  fince, neither  the  Gods,  whom  you  always 
.■ireligioufly  worOiipped,  nor  the  m.;n  whofi  good  I  al- 
'■'.ys  promoted,  have  rev/arded  us  according  to  our  de- 
.  1  ts.  What  a  dillreffed  wretch  ami !  Should  I  afic  a  weak 
jwoman  oppreffed  with  cares  and  ficknefs,  to  come  and 
liv«  v/ith  me  ;  or  fliall  I  not  aik  her  ?  Can  I  live  with- 
out you  ?  But  I  find  I  muft.  If  there  be  any  hopes 
of  my  return,  help  it  forward,  and  promote  it  as  much 
as  you  are  able.  But  if  all  that  is  over,  as  I  fear  it  is, 
find  out  fome  way  or  other  of  coming  to  me.  Tills 
you  may  be  fure  of,  that  I  fnall  not  look  upon  myfeif 
as  quite  undone  whilft  you  arc  with  me.  But  what 
will  become  of  Tw/Z/Wa  f  You  nniil;  look  to  that;  I 
muft  confefs,  I  am  entirely  at  a  lofs  about  her.  What- 
ever happens,  we  muft  take  care  of  the  reputation  and 
marriage  of  that  dear  unfortunate  girl.  As  for  Cicero, 
he  (hall  live  in  my  bofom,  and  in  my  arms.  I  cannot 
write  any  farther,  my  forrows  will  not  let  me — Sup- 
port yourfelf,  my  dear  Terentia,  as  well  as  you  are  able. 
We  have  lived  and  flouriOied  together  amid  ft  the  great- 
eft  honours  :  It  is  not  our  crimes,  but  our  virtues 
J  that  have  diftrefled  us. — Take  more  than  ordinary  care 
of  your  health  .''  I  am  more  afflicted  with  your  for- 
rows than  my  own.  Farewel,  my  Terentia,  thou  dear- 
eft,  faithfullell,  and  beft  of  wives." 

Methinks  it  is  a  pleafure  to  fee  this  great  man  in  his 
family,  who  makes  fo  different  a  figure  in  xht  forum  or 
jSenate  of  Rome.  Every  one  admires  the  Orator  and 
the  Conful ;  but  for  my  pait,  I  efteem  the  hulliand 
and  the  father.  His  private  charadler,  with  all  the 
little  weakneffes  of  humanity,  is  as  amiable,  as  the  fig- 
ure he  makes  in  public  is  awful  and  majeftic.  But  at 
the  fame  time  that  I  love  to  furprife  fo  great  an  author 
in  his  private  walks,  and  to  furvey  him  in  his  moft  fa- 
miliar lights,  I  think  it  would  be  barbarous  to  form  to 
ourfelves  any  idea  of  mean-fpiritednefs  from  thofe  na- 


228  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY, 

tural  openings  of  his  heart,  and  difburthening  of  hrS' 
thoughts  to  a  wife.  He  has  written  feveral  other  let-' 
ters  to  the  fame  perfon,  but  no3Te  v/ith  fo  great  paflion 
asthefe  of  which  I  have  given  the  foregoing  extracts. 
It  would  be  ill-nature,  not  to  acquaint  the  EngUjb 
reader,  that  his  wife  was  fuccefsfui  in  her  felicitations 
for  this  great  man,  and  faw  her  hufband  return  to  the 
honours  of  which  he  had  been  deprived,  with  all  thc^ 
pomp  and  acclamation  thatufually  attended  the  great^j 
eft  triumph.  Tatler.  Vol.  ill.  No.  159*,! 


I 


CLEANLINESS 


S  a  mark  oi  pclitcnf  fs.  It  is  mriverfally  agreed  up- 
on, that  no  one,  unadorned  with  this  virtue,  can  go 
into  company  witliout  giving  a  manifeR  olrence.  The 
eaficr  or  higher  any  one's  fortune  is,  this  duty  riles 
proportionably.  The  different  nations  of  the  world 
areas  as  much  diftinguiihed  by  their  cleanlincfs,  as 
by  their  arts  and  fciences.  1'he  mere '  any  country 
is  civilized,  the  more  they  confultthis  part  of  polite- 
nefs.  We  need  but  ccmpape  our  ideas  of  a  female 
Hottentot  and  an  EngUJh  beauty,  to  be  fatisfied  of  the 
truth  of  what  hath  been  advanced. 

In  the  next  place,  cleanlinefs    may  be  faid  to  be  thci' 
foftei  mother  of  love.     Beauty  indeed  moft  coir'mon- 
ly  produces  that  paffion  in  the  m.ind,  but    cleanlinefs 
preferves  it.     An  indifferent  face  and  perfon,  kept  in 
perpetual  neatnefs,  has  won  many  a  heart  from  a  pret- 
ty flattern.     Age  itfelf  is  not  unamiable,  while  it  is  pre-  i  j 
ferved  clean  and  unfullied  :  like  a  piece  of  metal  con- 
flantly  kept  fmooth  and  bright,  we    look    on    it  .with 
more  pleafure  than  on  a  new  veffel  which  is  cankered  jl| 
with  ruft.  •  \ 

I  might  obferve  farther,  that,  as  cleanlinefs  renders 
us  agreeable  to  others,  fo  it  makes  us  eafy  to  ourfelves, 
that  ic  is  an  excellent  prefervative  of  health  ;  and  that 
feveral  vices  de{lru6tive  both  to  mind  and  body,  are 
inconfiOient  with  the  habit  of  it.  But  thefe  reflections 
I  fhali  leave  to  the  leifure  of  my  readers,  and  ihall  ob- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        22^ 

ferve  in  the  third  place,  that  it  bears  a  great  analogy 
with  purity  of  mind,  and  naturally  infpircs  refined 
Icntiments  and  paflions. 

We  find  from  experience,  that  through  the  preva- 
lence of  cuftom,  the  moft  vicious  adions  lofe  their 
horror,  by  being  made  familiar  to  us.  On  the  con- 
trary, thofe  who  live  in  the  neighbourhood  of  good 
examples,  fly  from  the  firfl  appearance  of  what  is 
fhockin^T.  Itfares  with  us  much  after  the  fiime  manner, 
as  our  ideas.  Our  fenfes,  which  are  the  inlets  to  all 
the  images  conveyed  to  the  mind,  can  only  tranfmit 
the  imprefTion  of  fuch  things  as  ufually  furroundthem. 
So  that  pure  and  unfullled  thoughts  are  naturally  fug- 
gelled  to  the  mind  by  thofe  obje£ls  that  perpetually 
encompafs  us,  when  they  are  beautiful  and  elegant  in 
their  kind. 

In  the  eafl^  where  the  warmth  of  the  climate  make* 
cleanlinefs  more  immediately  neceffary  than  in  colder 
countries,  it  is  made  one  part  of  their  religion.  The 
J^willi  law,  (and  the  Mahometan,  which  in  fome 
things  copies  after  it)  is  filled  with  bathings,  puri- 
fications, and  other  rites  of  the  like  nature.  Though 
there  is  the  above-named  convenient  reafon  to  be  af- 
figned  for  thefe  ceremonies,  the  chief  intention  un- 
doubtedly was  to  typify  inward  purity  and  cleanli- 
nefs of  heart  by  thofe  outward  waihings.  AVe  read 
feveral  injundiions  of  this  kind  in  the  book  of  Deute- 
rmomyy  which  confirm  this  truth  ;  and  which  are  but 
ill  accounted  for  by  faying  as  fome  do,  that  they  were 
only  inftituted  for  convenience  in  the  defart,  which. 
othcrwife  could  not  have  been  habitable  for  fo  many- 
years. 

I  fhall  conclude  this  efiay  with  a  (lory  which  I  have 
fome  where  read  in  an  account  of  P^Iohometan  fuper- 
ftitions. 

A  Dervife  of  great  fan(9:ity,  one  morning  had  the 
misfortune,  as  he  took  up  a  cryftal  cup,  which  was 
confecrated  to  the  prophet,  to  let  it  fall  upon  the 
ground,  and  dafh  it  in  pieces.  His  fon  coming  ia 
Ibme  time  after,  he  flretchcd  out  his  hand  to  blefs 
him,  as  his   manner  was  every   morning  ;    but  th^ 


230  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

youth  going  out,  ftumbled  over  the  threfliold,  and 
broke  his  arm.  As  the  old  man  wondered  at  thefe 
events,  a  caravan  pafled  by  in  its  way  from  Mecca, 
The  Dewije  approached  it  to  beg  a  bleihng  •,  but,  as 
he  ftrokedone  of  the  holy  camels,  he  received  a  kick 
from  the  bealt,/  that  forely  bruifed  him.  His  forrow 
and  amazement  increafed  upon  him,  till  he  recol- 
lected, that  through  hurry  and  inadvertency  he  had 
;that  morning  come  abroad  without  waflung  his 
4iands. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VIII.  No.  <53  r. 


COMMERCE. 

X  HERE  is  not  a  place  in  the  tovv^n  which  I  fo 
much  love  to  frequent  as  the  Royal  Exchange.  It  gives 
a  fecret  fatisfaction^  and,  in  feme  meafure,  gratifies 
my  vanity,  as  I  am  an  EngUfimun^  to  fee  fo  rich  an  af- 
fembly  of  countrymen  and  foreigners  confulting  to- 
gether upon  the  private  bufinefs  of  munkind,  and  mak- 
ing this  metropolis  a  kind  of  emporium  for  the  whole 
earth.  I  muft  confefs  1  look  upon  high  change  to  be 
a  great  council,  in  which  all  confidcrable  nations  have 
their  reprefcniatives.  FaClors  in  the  trading  world 
are  what  ambaffadors  are  in  the  politic  world  ;  they 
negodate  atTairs,  conclude  treaties,  and  maintain  a 
good  correfoondence  b^^tv/een  thofc  wealthy  focieties 
of  iVieu  that  arc  dividrd  from  one  another  by  feas  and 
oceans,  or  live  on  the  different  extremiiies  of  a  conti- 
nents I  have  often  been  pleafed  to  hear  difputes  ad.- 
jufted  between  an  inhabitant  of  japan  and  an  alder- 
man of  La.don,  or  to  fee  a  fubjeCt  of  the  Great  Mogul 
entering  into  a  league  with  one  of  the  (  %ar  of  Uufcc- 
<vy.  I  am  infinitely  delighted  in  mixing  with  thefe 
feveral  minifters  of  commerce,  as  they  arc  diflingulfli- 
cd  by  their  different  walks  and  diflerent  languages. 
Soiietimes  I  am  joflled  among  a  body  of  Armenians ; 
fomttimes  I  am  lofl  in  a  crowd  of  Jenvs  ;  and  fome- 
. times  make  one  in  a  group  of  Dutchnen.     I  am  a  Dane^ 

S-xMsdi^  cr  Fnnchman^  at  diiFerent  times  •,  or  rather  fau- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  231 

cy  myfelf  like  the  old  phllofopher,  who,  upon  being 
allced  what  countryman  he  was,  replied,  that  he  was 
a  citizen  of  the  world.  v 

Though  I  very  frequently  vifit  this  bufy  multitude 
of  people,  I  am  known  to  nobody  there  but  my  friend 
Sir  Andre^ujy  who  often  fmiles  upon  me  as  he  fees  me 
buftling  in  the  crowd,  but  at  the  fame  time  connives 
at  my  prefence  without  taking  any  farther  notice  o£ 
me.  There  is  indeed  a  merchant  of  Egypt ^  who  juft 
knows  me  by  fight,  having  formerly  remitted  me  fome 
money  to  Grand  Cairo  \  but,  as  I  am  not  verfed  in  the 
modern  coptick^  our  conferences  go  no  farther  than  a 
bov/  and  a  grimace. 

This  grand  fcene  of  bufinefs  gives  me  an  infinite 
variety  of  folid  and  fubftantial  entertainments.  As  I 
am  a  great  lover  of  m.ankind,  my  heart  naturally  over- 
flov/s  witli  pleafure  at  the  fight  of  a  profperous  anJ 
happy  multitude,  infomuch  that  at  many  public  io*' 
kinnities  I  cannot  forbear  expreflrng  my  joy  with 
tears  that  have  ftolen  down  my  cheeks.  For  this 
reafon  I.  am  wonderfully  delighted  to  fee  fuch  a  body 
of  men  thriving  in  their  own  private  fortunes,  and  at 
the  fame  time  promoting  the  public  flock  \  or  in  oth- 
er words,  raifing  eftates,  for  their  own  families,  by- 
bringing  into  their  country  v/hatever  is  wanting,  and 
carrying  out  of  it  whatever  is  fuperfiuous. 

Nature  feems  to  have  taken  a  particular  care  to  dif- 
feminate  her  bleffnigs  among  the  different  regions  of 
the  world,  with  an  eye  to  this  mutual  intercourfe  and 
traffic  among  mankind,  that  the  natives  of  the  feve- 
ral  parts  of  the  globe  might  have  a  kind  of  depend- 
ance  upon  one  another,  and  be  united  together  by  their 
common  intcrefts.  Almoft  every  degree  produces 
fomething  peculiar  to  it.  The  food  often  grows  in 
one  country,  and  the  fauce  in  another.  The  fruits  o£ 
Portugal  are  corre£l:ed  by  the  products  of  Barbaaoes, 
The  infufion  of  a  China  plant  fweet.ened  with  the  pith 
of  an  hidian  cTiViQ.  The  Philippine  iflands  give  a  fla- 
vour to  our  Euroepan  bowls.  The  fingle  drefs  of  a  wo- 
man of  quality  is  often  the  produtl  of  an  hu:«dred 
cUnmtes.     The  muff  and. the  fan  come  together  from 


,232         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

the  difFerent  ends  of  the  earth.  The  fcarf  is  {ent 
from  the  Torrid  Zone,  and  the  tippet  from  bencatk 
the  Pole.  The  brocade  petticoat  rifes  out  of  the 
Klines  of  Peru,  and  the  diamond  necklace  out  of  the 
bowels  of  Hi.idojian, 

If  we  confider  our  own  country  in  its  natural  prof- 
peel,  without  any  of  the  benefits  and  advantages  of 
commerce,  what  a  barren,  uncomfortable  fpot  of  earth 
falls  to  our  fliare  \  Natural  hiftorians  tell  us,  that  no 
fruit  grows  originally  among  us,  bcfides  hips  and 
haws,  acorns  and  pig-nuts,  with  other  delicacies  of 
the  like  nature  :  that  our  climate  of  itfelf.  and  with- 
out the  affiftance  of  art,  can  make  no  farther  advan- 
ces towards  a  plum  than  to  a  floe,  and  carries  an  ap- 
ple to  no  greater  perfection  than  a  crab  :  that  our 
jnelons,  our  peaches,  our  figs,  our  apricots,. and  cher- 
ries, are  ftrangers  among  us,  imported  in  different 
ages,  and  naturalized  in  our  Englip  gardens  ;  and  that 
they  would  all  degenerate  arid  fall  away  into  the  trafh 
of  our  own  country,  if  they  were  wholly  negledledby 
the  planter,  and  left  to  the  mercy  of  our  fun  and  foil. 
Nor  hastrafiic  mors  enriched  our  vegetable  world,  than 
it  has  improved  the  whole  face  of  nature  among  us. 
Our  (hips  are  laden  with  the  harveft  of  every  climate  : 
our  tables  'are  (tored  with  fpices,  and  oils,  and  wines  : 
our  rooms  are  filled  with  pyramids  of  Chinay  and 
adorned  with  the  workmanfhip  of  Japan  :  our  morn- 
ing's draught  comes  to  us  from  tlie  remoteft  corners 
of  the  earth  :  we  repair  our  bodies  by  the  drugs  of 
Amtrica,  and  repofe  ourfslves  under  Indian  canopies. 
My  friend  Sir  Andrew  calls  the  vineyards  of  France  our 
gardens  *,  the  fpicelilands  our  hotbeds  j  the  Perfians 
our  filk  weavers,  and  the  Chinefe  our  potters.  Nature 
indeed  furnifhcs  us  with  the  bare  neceffaries  of  life  ; 
but  traffic  gives  us  a  great  variety  of  what  is  ufeful, 
and  at  the  fame  times  fupplies  us  with  every  thing 
that  is  convenient  and  ornamental.  Nor  is  it  the 
leail  part  of  this  our  happinefs,  that  while  we  enjoy 
the  remoteft  produds  of  the  north  and  fouth,  we  are 
free  from  thofe  extremities  of  weather  whicli  give 
ihej^  birtji :  that  our  eyes  are  refreflied  with  the  green. 


! 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  233 

ieuls  of  Britain^  at  the  fame  time  that  our  palates  are 
Jeafted  with  fruits  that  rife  between  the  tropics. 

•*.For  thefe  reafons  there  are  none  more  uieful  mem- 
bers in  a  commonwealth  than  merchants.  They  knit 
mankind  together  in  a  mutual  intercourfe  of  good  of- 
fices, diftribute  the  gifts  of  nature,  find  work  for  the 
poor,  and  wealth  to  the  rich,  and  magnificence  to  the 
great.  Our  En^Ujh  merchant  converts  the  tin  of  his 
own  country  into  gold,  and  exchanges  his  wool 
for  rubies.  The  Mahometans  are  clothed  in  our  Brit" 
ijh  m:inufa£ture,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  frozen 
rone  warmed  with  the  fleeces  of  our  fiieep. 

When  I  have  been  upon  the  change,  I  have  ofteu 
fancied  one  of  our  old  kings  (landing  in  his  perfon,, 
where  he  is  reprefcnted  in  eifigy,  and  locking  down, 
iipjn  the  wealthy  conccurfe  of  people  with  which  that 
place  is  every  day  filled.  In  this  cafe  how  would  he 
be  furpifed  to  hear  all  the  languages  of  Europe  fpoken 
in  this  little  fpot  of  Ills  former  dominions,  and  to  fee 
fo  many  private  men,  who  in  his  time  would  have 
been  the  vafials  of  ibme  powerful  Baron,  negociating 
like  princes  for  greater  furns  of  money  than  were  for- 
inerly  to  be  met  with  in  the  royal  treafury  !  Trade, 
without  enlarging  the  Britijh  territories,  has  given  us  a 
kind  of  additional  empire  :  it  has  multiplied  the  num- 
ber of  rhe  rich,  made  our  landed  eftates  infinitely  more 
valuable  than  they  were  formerly,  and  added  to  them 
an  acceflion  of  other  eftates  as  valuable  as  the  lands 
themlelves. 

Spectator,  Vol.  I.  No.  6y, 


COMMON  PRAYER. 

Jt  HE  well-reading  of  the  common  prayer  is  of  fo 
great  importance,  and  fo  much  negleded,  that  I  take 
the  liberty  to  olFer  to  your  confideration  fome  parti- 
culars on  that  fubjeft':  and  what  more  worthy  your 
obfervation  than  this,  a  thing  fo  public  and  of  fo 
high  confequence  ?  It  is  tH^^d^-wmiferful,  that  the 
frequent  cxercife  c)^*'?{^fl4UM  ^#t"«nra1ie  the  perfor- 
U    2 


234  ADDfSONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

mcrs  of  that  duty  more  expert  in  it.  This  inability^ 
as  I  conceive,  proceeds  from  the  little  care  that  is  ta- 
ken of  their  reading,  while  boys,  and  at  fchool, where, 
when  they  have  got  into  Latin,  they  are  looked  upon 
as  above  Englifh,  the  reading  of  which  is  wholly  ne<2:- 
ic6ted,  or  at  lead  read  to  very  little  purpoCe,  withe  ut 
any  due  obfervations  made  to  thera  of  the  proper  ac- 
cent and  manner  of  reading  :  by  this  means  they 
have  acquired  fuch  ill  habits  as  will  not  eafily  be  re- 
moved. The  only  way  that  I  know  of  to  remedy 
this,  is  to  propofe  lome  perfon  of  great  ability  that  way 
as  a  pattern  for  them  ;  example  being  moll  effedlual 
to  convince  the  learned,  as  well  as  to  in(lru£l  the  ig- 
norant. 

You  mufl  know.  Sir,  I  have  been  a  conflant  frc- 

<juenter  of  the  church  of  England  for  above  thefe  four 

years  laft  part,   and  till  funday  was  fevennight  never 

<lifcovered,  to  fo  great  a  degree,  the  excellence  of  the 

common  prayer  ;  when,  being   at  St.    James's,,  Gar- 

iick-HHl  church,  I  heard  the  fcrmon  read  fo  diftindtly,, 

ib  emphatically,  and  lo  fervently,  that  it  was   next   to 

•an  impoffibility  to  be  unattentive.     My  eyes  and  my 

thoughts  could  not  wander  as  ufual,   but   were  con- 

iined  to  my  prayers  :    I  then  confidered    I   addrelTed 

myfelf  to  the  Almighty,  and  not   to   a  beautiful  face. 

And  when  I  refle6ledcn  my  former  performances  of 

.that  duty,  I  found  I  had  run  it    over  as  a  matter  of 

form,  in  comparifon  to  the  manner  in  which  I  then 

clifcharged  it.     My  mind  was  really  affeded,  and  fer> 

vent  wifhes  accompanied  ray  words.     The  confeflioa 

"was  read  with  fuch  a  refigned  humility,  the  abfolution 

with    fuch  a  comfortable  authority,  the  thaakfgivings 

"with  fuch  a  religious  joy,  as  made  me  feel  thofe   af- 

fei^ions  of  the  mind  in  the  manner  I  never  did  before*. 

To  remedy  therefore  the  grievance  above  complained 

of,  I  humbly  propofe,  that  this  excellent  reader,  upca 

tjic  next  and  every  annual  affembly  of  the  clergy  of 

SiMr  College y   and  all  other   conventions,    fliould  read 

prayers  before  them  :  for  then  thofe  who  are  afraid  of 

5:retching  their  mouths  and  fpoiling  their  foft  voice,. 

^iU    karn    to  r«ad    witb   cleaKicfa^  loijdaefs  ai^d 


ADDISOKIAN  MISCELLANY.  23.^ 

ftrcngth.  Others,  who  afFecl  a  rakifh  negligent  air  by 
folding  their  arms,  and  lolling  on  their  book,  will  be 
taught  a  decent  bcKnvicnr,  nnd  comely  ereiflion  of  bo- 
dy. Thofc  who  read  ib  fad  as  if  impatient  of  their 
work,  m:^y  learn  to  fpeak  deliberately.  There  is  an- 
other fort  of  pcrfons  M'hom  1  call  rindaric  readers,  as 
being  confined  to  no  fet  meafure  :  Thefe  pronounce 
five  or  fix  words  with  great  deliberation,  and  the  five 
or  fix  fubfequent  ones  with  as  great  celerity  ;  the  firft 
part  of  a  fentence  with  a  very  exalted  voice,  and  the 
latter  part  with  a  fubmiilive  one;  fometimes  again 
with  one  fort  of  a  tone,  and  immediately  after  with  a 
very  diiTcrent  one.  Thtte  gentkmen  will  learn  of  my 
admired  reader  an  evennefs  of  voice  and  delivery. 
And  all  who  are  innocent  of  thefe  affectations,  but 
read  with  fuch  an  indif>crency  asif  thev  did  not  un- 
derftand  the  language,  may  then  be  iniormed  of  the 
art  of  rcaditig  inovmgly  and  fcrvfntly,  how  to  place 
the  emphafis,  and  give  tiie  proper  accent  to  each  word, 
and  how  to  vary  the  voice  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  fentence.  There  is  certainly  a  very  great  differ- 
ence between  reading  a  prayer  and  a  gazette,  which! 
beg  of  you  to  inform  a  fet  of  itaoers,  whoafJedl, 
forfooth,  a  certain  g«ntieman«lil:e  familiarity  of  tone, 
and  amend  the  language  as  they  go  on,  crying,  in- 
ftead  of  fardonah  and  chjcl-veih^  f  arsons  and  ahj'olvesi^ 
Thefe  are  often  pretty  claffic.il  fcholars,  and  would 
think  it  an  unpardonable  Hn  to  read  Virgil  or  Martisd 
with  fo  little  tafte  as  they  do   divine  fervice. 

This  Indiffercncy  f^^ems    to  me    to   arife  from   the 

endeavour  of  avoiding  the  imputation  of  cant,   and 

the  falfe  notion  of  it.     It  will  be   proper  therefore  t» 

trace  the    original   and   fignihcation    of    this    word. 

Cant  is,  by   fome  people,   derived   from  one  AndretM 

iC/iv//.  who,  they  Aiy,  was  a   pvefbyterian    miniiter  ia 

^ome  illiterate  part  of  Scotland,  who  bv,  exercife  and 

i-wfe  had  obtained  the   faculty,  alias   gi^t,  of  talking  in 

^'t^^e  pulpit  in  fuch  a  dialect,  that  it  is  faid  he  was  un.. 

derllood  by  none  but  his  own  ccng  .egation.    and  not 

by  ^11  of  them.     Since    Mr.,   C^Af'^  nme  it  has  .been 

i^underliood  in  a  large  fenfe,  and   fignifies  all  fuddea 


2^5  DDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 


exclamaticns,  whinings,  unufual  tones,  and  In  fine  SlI- 
praying  and  preaching,  like  the  unlearned  of  the  pref- 
byterians.  But  I  hope  a  proper  elevation  of  voice,,  a 
due  cmphafis  and  accent,  are  noT'to  come  within 
this  defcription  :  So  that  our  readers  may  (till  be  as 
unlike  the  prefbyterians  as  they  pleafe.  The  dilTen- 
ters  (1  mean  fuch  as  I  have  heard)  do  indeed  elevate 
their  voices,  but  it  is  with  fudden  jumps  from  the 
lower  to  the  higher  parts  of  them  ,  and  that  with  fo 
little  fenfe  or  fkill,  that  their  elevation  and  cadence- 
is  b'Awiing  and  muttering.  They  make  ufe  of 
an  emphafis,  but  fo  improperly,  that  it  is  often 
placed  on  fome  very  iniignificant  particle,  as  up-  - 
on  if  or  arj.  Now,  if  the  improprieties  have  fo 
great  an  efTe^t  on^  the  people,  as  we  fee  they  have, 
how  great  an  influence  would  the  fervice  of  cur 
church,  containing  the  bcft  prayers  that  ever  were 
compofed,  and  that  in  terms  molt  afFefting,  mofb 
humble,  and  moft  exprefiive  of  our  wants,  and  de- 
pendance  on  the  obje6t  of  cur  worfhip,  difpofedin 
mofl  proper  order,  and  void  of  all  confufion  ;  what 
influence,  I  fay,  would  thefe  prayers  have,  were  they 
delivered  with  a  due  emphafis  and  appofite  rifing  and 
variation  of  voice,  the  fentencc  concluded  with  a  gen- 
tle cadence,  and,  in  a  word,  with  fuch  an  accent  and 
turn  of  fpeech  as  is  pecuHar  to  prayer  1 

As  the  m.atter  ofworOiip  is  now  managed,  in  dif- 
fcnting  cop.gragations,  you  find  infignificant  words 
and  phrafes  railed  by  a  Uvely  vehemence  ;  in  our  own- 
churches,  the  m.oft  exalted  fenfe  depreciated  by  a  dif- 
paflionate  indolence.     I  remember  to  have  heard  Dr. 

S — : e  fav,  in  his  pulpit,   of  the  common   prayer, 

that,  at  leail:,  it  was  as  perfe£l  as  any  thing  of  human 
inftitution  :  If  the  gentlemen  who  err  in  this  kind, 
would  pleafe  to  recolleft  the  many  pleafantries  they 
have  read  upon  thofe  who  recite  good  things  with  an 
ill  grace,  they  would  go  on  to  think  that  what  in  that 
cafe  is  only  ridiculous,  in  themfelves  is  impious.  But 
kaving  this  to  their  own  reflections,  I-  fhaii  conclude 
this  trouble  with  what  Ccsfar  faid  upon  the  irregular- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         tjf 

Hy  of  t  jne  in  one  who  read  before  him,  Dojfu  reid^  «r 

Spectator,  Vol.  II.  No.   147.  T. 


I 


COMPLAISANCE. 


was  the  other  day  in  company  at  my  lady  Lixants, 
•when  there  came  in  among  us  their  ^roufin  Tc:»,  who 
is  one  of  tiioie  country  Tquires  who  fet  up  for  plain 
honed  ^cnttcn,cn,  who  fpeak  their  minds.  Tom  is,  in 
fliort,  a  livily  impudent,  clown,  and  has  wit  enough 
tohavo  made  himlelf  a  pleiifant  companion,had  it  been 
poliflic<i  and  rectified  by  good  manners.  T cm  had 
net  been  a  quarter  of  an  hour  w-lth  us,  before  he  fet 
every  one  in  the  com.pany  a  blufhiiig,  by  feme  blunt 
queition,  or  unlucky  ubiervation.  He  afked  the 
iiparkler  if  her  wit  had  yet  got  her  a  hufband  ;  and 
told  her  eldeft  fifter  fhe  looked  a  little  wan  under  the 
eyes,  and  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  look  about  her, 
it  fhe  did  not  defign  to  lead  apes  in  the  other  world. 
The  good  lady  Lizard y  who  fuilers  more  than  her 
xlaagnters  on  fuch  an  occafion,  defired  her  coufin 
Thomasy  with  a  fmile,  not  to  be  fo  ftvere  on  his  rela- 
tions :  to  which  the  bcoby  replied,  with  a  rude  country 
laugh,  if  I  be  not  millaken,  aunt,  you  w^ere  a  mother 
at  iifteen  ;  and  why,  do  you  expe£l,  that  youi  daugh- 
ters fliould  be  maids  tiii  five-and-twenty  ^.  I  endea- 
voured to  divert  the  difcourfe,  when  without  taking 
notice  of  what  I  faid,  IMr.  hofifidty  fliys  he,  you  fill  my 
coufms'  heads  with  your  line  notions  as  you  call 
thdm  ;  can  you  teach  them  ro  make  a  pudding  ?  I 
muft  confcfs  he  put  me  out  of  countenance  with  hi* 
rullicraiileiy  ;  fo  that  I  nia,de  fome  cxcufe,  and  left 
the  room. 

This  fellow's  behaviour  made  me  refle£l:  on  the 
ufefulnefsof  complailance,  to  m.»k;i  all  converfation 
agreeable.  This,  though  in  itielf  it  be  fcnrce  reckon- 
ed in  the  number  of  moral  virtues,  is  that  which  gives 
a  luflire  to  every  t  ilent  a  man  can  be  poflcfled  of.  It 
was  riaty\  advice  to  an  unpoliftxd  writer,  that  \^ 


238        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

(hould  facrliice  to  the  graces.  In  the  fame  manner  I 
would  advife  every  man  of  learning,  who  would  not 
appear  in  the  world  a  mere  fcholar,  or  philofopher,  to 
make  himfcif  matter  of  the  fecial  virtue  which  I  hav^i 
here  mentioned. 

Complaifance  renders  a  fuperior  amiable,  an  equaf 
agreeable,  and  an  inferior  acceptable.  It  fmooths 
dilliiJ^Llon,  fweetens  converfation,  and  makes  every 
one  in  the^  company  pleafed  with  liimfelf.  It  produ- 
ces good-nature  and  mutual  benevolence,  encourages^ 
the  timorous,  foothcs  the  turbulent,  humanizes  the 
fierce,  and  dirtinguiflies  a  fociety  of  civilized  perfons 
from  a  confufion  of  favages.  In  a  word,  complaifance 
is  a  virtue  that  blends  all  orders  of  men  togetiier  in  a 
friendlv  intercourie  of  words  and  actions,  and  is  fuit- 
cd  to  that  equality  in  human  nature  which  every  one 
ought  to  confider,  fo  far  as  is  confiftent  with  the  order 
and  oeconcmy  of  the  world. 

If  we  could  look  into  the  fecretarrguifh  and  affliction 
of  every  man's  heart,  wefhould  often  find,  that  more  of 
it  arifes  from  little  imaginary  diftrefles,  fuch  as  checks,^ 
frowns,  contradicLions,  expreflions  of  contempt^  and 
^what  ihake/peare  reckons  among  other  evils  under  the. 
fun) 

~-    "The provJ  mail's  contumely y 

The  infolence  of  c_ffi.ce,  and  the  fpurns 

'i  hat  patient  merit  of  th''  unn.vorthy  takes ^ 


than  from  the  more  real  pains   and  calamities  of  life. .  I 
The  only  method  to  remove  thefe  imaginary  diftrefles 
as  much  as  poffible  out  of  human  life,  would  be  the 
univerfaj  praclice  of  fuch   an  ingenious  complaifance 
as  i  have  been  here  defcribing,   which,  as  it  is  a  vir- 
tue, rriuy  be  defined  to  be,  a  ccnjiant   endea^uour   to  pleafe  | 
tho/e    'VJith    ^ivhom    nxje  con^verf  ^  fo  far    as    <we   may   do  it.  1 
innocentl:,     I  Ihall  here   add,   that   I  know  nothing  fo.  | 
tiUe£lual  to  raife   a    man's    fortune    as  complaifance,   J 
which  recommends  more  to  the   favour  of  the  great,    ? 
than  wit,  knov/ledge,  or  any  other  talent  whatever.    I 
find  this    coniideration  very    prettily  illufErated  by  n    I 
little  wild  Arabian  tale,  which  I  fkall.here  abridge,  ios    \ 

\ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCZLLANY./  23^ 

tiie  fake  of  my  reader,  after  having  again  warned  him, 
that  I  do  not  recommend  to  him  fuch  an  impertinent 
or  vicious  complaifance  as  is  not  confident  with  hon- 
our and  integrity. 

"  Schacaback  being  reduced  to  great  poverty,  and 
having  eat  nothing  for  two  days  togetlier,  made  a  vl- 
fit  to  a  noble  ^^/-;;im^^  in /V;y/«,  who  was  very  hofpi- 
table,  but  withal  a  great  humourift.  The  Barmicide 
was  fitting  at  his  table,  that  feemed  ready  covered  for 
an  entertainment.  Upon  hearing  Schacab^ck's  com.- 
^laint,  he  defired  him  to  fit  down  and  fail  on  ;  he 
then  gave  him  an  empty  plate,  and  aficed  him  how  he 
liked  his  rice  foup  :  Schacabac,  who  was  a  man  of 
wit,  andrefolved  to  coir. ply  with  the  Burmecide  in  all 
his  humours,  told  him  it  w.;3  admirable,  and  at  the 
fame  time,  in  imitation  of  the  other,  lifted  up  tlie  emp- 
ty fpoon  to  his  mouth  with  great  plcafure.  The  Bar- 
mecide then  alked  him  if  he  ever  faw  whiter  bread  : 
Schacabacj  who  faw  neither  bread  nor  met —If  I  did 
iiot  like  it,  you  may  be  fure,  fays  he,  I  Ihauld  not  eat 
fo  heartily  of  it.  You  oblige  me  mi^rhtily  replied  the 
Barmecidey  pray  let  me  help  you  to  this  leg  of  a  goofe. 
Schacabac  reached  out  his  plate  and  received  nothing 
on  it  with  great  cheerfuinefs.  As  he  v/as  eatir.g 
.very  heartily  on  this  mighty  imaginary  goofe,  ?iv\ 
crying  up  the  fauce  to  the  fkies,  the  B.trmec:de  d-.ired 
him  to  keep  a  corner  of  his  ftom^ich  for  a  rojfl  jd 
lamb  fed  with  piftaeho  nuts  ;  and  after  having  called 
for  it  as  though  it  had  really  been  ferved  up,  hnre  is 
a  difii,  fays  he,  that  you  will  fee  at  nobody's  tab'c 
but  my  own.  Schacabac  was  wonderfully;  delighted 
with  the  tafte  of  it,  which  is  like  nothing, '  fays  he,  I 
ever  eat  before.  Several  other  nice  diOics  weve  ferv- 
ed up  in  idea,  which  both  of  them  commended,  and 
feaflied  on  after  the  fame  manner.  This  was  follow- 
ed by  an  invifble  dejjert^  no  part  of  which  delighted 
Bcliacahac  fo  rnuch  as  a  certain  lozenge,  >.\  hich  the 
B^imecide  told  him  was  a  fweetmeat  of  his  own  invan- 
tioii.  SchjLcabac  at  length,  being  court:  oufiy  reproach- 
ed by  the  Barmscidcy  that  he  had  no  ftomach,  and  that 
4)€  eat  nothing,  and  at  the  fame  time,  being  tired  with 


Z49  ADDISONIAN  ^fLSCELLANy. 

moving  his  jaws  up  and  down  to  no  purpofe,  defirei  y 
to  he  cxcufed,  for  that  really  he  was  fo  full   that  he  | 
could  not  eat  a  bit  more.     Come  then,  fays  the   Bar-  j 
mecide,  the  cloih  {h?dl  be  removed,  and  you  fliall  tafte  of  | 
my  wines,  which,  I  may  lay  without  vanity,  are  the  I 
befl  in  Perjia.     He  then    filled  both  their  glaiTes  out 
of  an  empty  decanter.     Schacabae   would  have   excu-  • 
fed  himfelf  from  drinking  fo  much  at  once,  becaufc  ' 
he  fald  he  was  a  little  quarrclfome  in  his  liquor  ;  how-  : 
ever  being  preft  to  it,  he  pretended  to  take  it  off,  hav-  j 
ing  before-hand  praifed    the  colour,    and    afterwards   i 
the  flavour.     Eein^  plied  with  two  or  three  other  im-  ; 
aginary  bumpers  of  different  wines,  equally  delicious, 
snd  a  little  vexed  with   this   fantaftic    treat,  he  pre-  ■ 
tended  to  grow   fluftered,  and   gave    the   Barmecide  a  i 
good   box    on   the   ear  ;  but  immediately  recovering  i 
himfelf,  Sir,  fays  he,  I  beg  ten  thoufand  pardons,  but 
I  told  you  before,  that  it    was  my   misfortune    to  be  i 
quarreifome  in  my  drink.     The  Barmecide  could  not 
but  fi-nile  at  the  humour  of  his   gueij,  and  inftead  of 
being  angry  at  him,  I  find,  fays   he,  thou  art   a  com- 
plaifant  fellow,  and  defervefi:  to  be  entertained  in  my 
houfe.     Since  thou  canft  accommodate  thyfelf  to  my 
humour,  we    will  now  eat  together  in  good  earneft. 
Upon  which  calling  for  his  fupper,  the  rice-foup,  the 
goofe,  the  piffacho  lamb,  the  fevcral  other  nice  difhes, 
with  the  dejjert,  the    lozenges,  and   all  the  variety  of 
Perfian  wines  were  ferved  up  fucceffively,  one  after  an- 
other  ;  and  Schacabae  was  feaRed  in  reality,  with  thofe 
very  things  which  he  had  before  been  entertained  with 
in  imagination." 

Guardian,  Vol.    II.  No.   162. 


CONJUGAL  AFFECTION. 

X  WAS  walking  about  my  chamber  this  morning  la 
a  very  gay  humour,  when  I  faw  a  coach  flop  at  my 
door,  and  a  youth  about  fifteen  alighting  out  of  it, 
whom  I  perceived  to  be  the  eldeft  fon  of  my  bofom 
friend,   whom  I  gave  fome  account  of  in  my  paper  of  1 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  ^4^ 

-1 7tli  of  the  lafl:  month.  I  felt  a  fenfible  pleafure  rif- 
ing  in  me  at  the  fight  of  him,  my  acquaintance  having 
begun  with  his  father  when  he  was  juft  fuch  a  ftripling, 
wnd  about  that  very  age.  When  he  came  up  to  me,  fie 
took    me  by  the  hand,  and  burft  into   tears — I   was 

,  extremely  moved,  and  immediately  faid,  child,  how 
h  your  father  i  He  began  to  reply — my  mother, 
but  could  not  go  on  for  weeping.  I  went  down  with 
him  into  the  coach,  and  gathered  out  of  him,  that  his 
inother  was  then  dying,  and  that  while  the  holy  man 
•was  doing  the  lad  offices  to  her,  he  had  taken  tliat 
time  to  come  and  call  me  to  his  father  ^who  he  faid) 
would  certainly  break  his  heart  if  I  did  not  go  and 
comfort  him.  The  child's  difcretion  in  coming  to  mc 
of  his  own  accord,and  the  tendernefs  he  (bowed  forhi* 
parentsjwould  have  quite  overpowered  me,had  I  not  re- 

vfolved  to  fortify  myfelf  for  the  feafonable  performances 
of  thofe  duties  which  I  owed  to  my  friend.  As  wc 
were  going,  I  could  not  but  reflecSi;  upon  the  character 
of  that  excellent  woman,  and  the  greatnefs  of  his  grief 

'►for  the  lofs  of  one  who  has  ever  been  the  fupport  to 
Jiim  under  all  the  affli6tions.  How  (tliought  I)  will 
he  be  able  to  bear  the  hour  of  her  death,  that  could  not 
"when  I  was  lately  with  him,  fpeak  of  a  ficknefs,  which 
was  then  paft,  without  forrow?  We  were  now  got 
pretty  far  into  IVeJiminJlerj  and  arrived  at  my  friend's 
houfe.  At  the  door  of  it  I  met  Tanjonius,  not  without 
a  fecret  fatisfa^lion  to  find  he  had  been  there.  I  had 
formerly  converfed  with  him  at  his  own  houfe  ;  and 
as  he  abounds  with  that  fort  of  virtue  and  knowledge 
which  makes  religion  beautiful,  and  never  leads  th© 
converfation  into  the  violence  and  rage  of  party  di{^ 
putes,  I  liftened  to  him  with  great  pleafure.  Our  dif- 
courfe  chanced  to  be  upon  the  fubje6l  of  death,  whick 
he  treated  with  fuch  a  ftrength  of  reafon,  and  great- 
nefs of  foul,  that  inftead  of  being  terrible,  it  appeared 
to  a  mind  rightly  cultivated,  altogether  to  be  contem* 
ned,  or  rather  to  be  defired.  As  I  met  him  at  the  door, 
I  faw  in  his  face  a  certain  glowing  of  grief  and  hu- 
manity, heightened  with  an  air  of  fortitude  and   refo- 

Iwtiwi;  vrhi^h,  a^  I  afterwards  found,  had  fv^ch  an  irrc* 


242  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY,  | 

fiftible  force,  as  to  fufpend  the  pains  of  the  dying,^nd1 
the  lamentation  of  thenearefl:  friends  who  attended  her. 
I  went  up  directly  to  the  room  where  ihe  lay,  and 
was  met  at  the  entrance  by  my  friend,  who,  notwith- 
ftanding  his  thoughts  had  been  compofed  a  little  before^ 
at  the  fight  of  me  turned  awayhisface  and  wept.  The  lit- 
tle family  of  children  renev.^cd  the  ex^prefTions  of  their 
forrow,  according  to  their  feveral  ages  and  degrees  of 
underftanding.  The  elded  daughter  was  in  tears,  bu-  I 
fied  in  attendance  upon  her  mother  ;  others  were  \ 
kneeling  about  the  bed-fide  :  And  what  troubled  mc  | 
mod  w^as>  to  fee  a  little  boy,  who  was  too  young  to 
know  the  reafon,  weeping  only  becaufe  his  fiflers  did.  ' 
The  only  one  in  the  room  who  feemed  refigned  and  ; 
comforted,  v/as  the  dying  perfon.  At  my  approach  ! 
to  the  bed-fide,  fhe  told  me,  with  a  low  broken  voice, 
This  is  kindly  done — take  care  of  your  friend— do  not 
go  from  him.  She  had  before  taken  leave  of  her  huf- 
band  and  children,  in  a  manner  proper  for  fo  folemn 
a  parting,  and  with  a  gracefulnefs  peculiar  to  a  woman 
of  her  cnara£ter.  My  heart  was  torn  to  pieces  to  fee 
the  hufband  on  one  fide,  fuppreffing  and  keeping  down 
the  fwellings  of  grief,  for  fear  of  difturbing  her  in  her 
laft  moments  ;  and  the  wife  even  at  that  time  con- 
cealing the  pains  fhe  endured,  for  fear  of  increafin^ 
his  affliction.  She  kept  her  eyes  upon  him  for  fome 
moments  after  (he  grew  fpeechlefs,  and  foon  after 
clofed  them  for  ever.  In  the  moment  of  her  depar- 
ture, my  friend  (who  had  thus  far  commanded  hira- 
felf)  gave  a  deep  groan,  and  fell  into  a  fwoon  by  her 
bed-fide.  The  diftra£lion  of  the  children,  who  tho't 
they  faw  both  their  parents  expiring  together,  and  now 
lying  dead  before  them,  would  have  melted  the  hard- 
eft  heart  ;  but  they  foon  perceived  their  father  recov- 
er, whom  I  helped  to  remove  into  another  room,  with 
a  refolution  to  accompany  him  till  the  firft  pangs  of  his 
affliction  were  abated.  I  knew  confolation  would  now 
be  impertinent,  and  therefore  contented  myfelf  to  fit 
by  him,  and  condole  with  him  in  filence.  For  I  fh^ll 
here  ufe  the  method  of  an  ancient  author,  who,  in  one 
of  his  epiftles  relating  to  the  virtues  and  death  of  Ma-^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  243 

myw/s  wife,  exprefles  himfelf  thus  :  "  I  fhall  fufpend 
b;c  advice  to  this  beft  of  friends,  till  he  is  made  capa- 
of  receiving  it  by  thofe  three  great  remedies,  (Ne~ 
cejjttas  ip/a,  dies  tonga,  et  fatietas  dolorus)  the  necellity  of 
fabmilRon,  length  of  time,  and  fatiety  of  grief." 

In  the  mean  time,  I  cannot  but  confider,  with  much 
commiferation,  the  melancholy  (late  of  one  who  has 
had  fuch  a  part  of  himfelf  torn  from  him,  and  which 
he  miffes  in  every  circumftance  of  life.  His  condi- 
tion is  like  tliat  of  one  who  has  lately  loft  his  right 
arm,  and  is  every  moment  offering  to  lielp  himfelf  with 
it.  He  does  not  appear  to  himfelf  the  fame  i>erfon  in 
his  houfe,  at  his  table,  in  company,  or  in  retirement ; 
and  lofes  the  relifli  of  all  the  pleafures  and  diverfions 
that  were  become  entertaining  tahim  by  her  participa- 
tion of  them.  The  moft  agreeable  obje<Sts  recall  the  for- 
row  of  her  with  whom  he  ufed  to  enjoy  them.  This 
additional  fatisfadllon,  from  the  tafte  of  pleafures  in  the 
fociety  of  one  we  love,  is  admirably  defcribed  in  Mil- 
isny  who  reprefents  E-ve,  though  in  Paradife  itfelf,  no 
farther  pleafed  with  the  beautiful  objecfts  around  her, 
than  as  Ihe  fees  them  in  company  with  Adam^  in  that 
pafTagc  {o  inexpreffibly  charming  : 

Iftth  thee  con-verjing  I  forget  all  time. 
All  feafons^  and  their  change  ;  all  pie  aft  alike  ^ 
Sixjset  is  the  breath  of  morn  ^  her  rifng  fweety 
With  charm  of  earlitji  birds  ;  pleafant  thefitUy 
Whsnfrjl  on  tftis  delightful  land  he  fpreads 
His  orient  beamsy  on  herb,  tree,  fruit  andfc^ver, 
Glifning  ivith  deiv  ;  fragrant  the  fertile  iarth 
After  fo ft  fpon.'or:^  andjxvcet  the  coming  on 
Of  grateful  evening  mild  ;   the  fdent  night. 
With  this  herfohmn  bird,  and  this  fair  moon. 
And  thefe  the  gems  of  Heaven,  her  far  ry  train. 
But  neither  breath  of  morn  nvhenjhe  afcends 
With  charm  of  ear  lief  birds,  nor  rifingfun 
In  this  delight  lid  land,  nor  kerb,  fruit,  fonvery 
"Glift^ning  iKith  de^K},  r.or fragrance  after  Jho=i\eiSy 
Nor  grateful  evning  mild,  nor  f  lent  night, 
l^th  this  herfolsmn  mtr.,  nor  ivalk  by  moon, 
^ glittering fi»'4iiht,  without  thee  is  fweet. 

TatlkRj  VoL  II,  Na.  1 14- 


i?44        ADDISONIAN.  MISCELLAKY,       * 

CONJUGAL  AFFLICTION. 

Ckeaffidtyjulj  10. 


HAVE  lately  married  a  very  pretty  body,  wfio  bo 
ing  fometJiIng  younger  and  richer  than  myfelf,  I  was 
advifed  to  go  a  wooing  to  her  in  a  finer  fuit  of  clothes 
than  ever  I  wore  in  my  life  j  for  I  love  to  drefs  plain, 
and  fuitable  to  a  man  of  my  rank.  However,  I  gained 
her  heart  by  it.  Upon  the  wedding  day  I  put  myfelf^ 
according  to  cuftom,  in  another  fuit  nre-new,  with 
filver  buttons  to  it.  I  am  fo  out  of  countenance  a- 
anong  my  neighbours  upon  being  fo  fine,  that  I  hearti- 
ly wifh  my  clothes  well  worn  out.  I  fancy  every  bo- 
^y  obferves  me  as  I  walk  the  ftreet ;  and  long  to  be  va, 
my  old  plain  geer  again.  Befides,  forfooth,  they  have 
put  me  in  a  nik  night  gown,  and  a  gaudy  fool's  cap, 
and  make  me  now  and  then  (land  in  the  window  with. 
It.  I  am  afhamed  to  be  dandled  thus,  and  cannot  look 
in  the  glafs  without  blufhing  to  fee  myfelf  turned  into 
£vich  a  pretty  little  mailer.  They  tell  me  I  muft  ap» 
pear  in  my  wedding  fuit  for  the  nrft  month  at  leart  ; 
«\fter  which  I  am  rcfolved  to  come  again  to  my  every 
<!ay  clothes,  for  at  prefent  every  day  is  Sunday  with  mci. 
Now  in  my  mind,  Mr.  Ironfidey  thrs  is  the  wrongeft: 
way  ol  proceedittg  in  the  world.  When  a  man's  per- 
fon  is  new  and  imaccuflomed  to  a  young  body,  he  does 
X^ot  want  any  tiling  elfe  to  ftt  him  off.  The  novelty 
of  the  lover  has  more  charms  than  a  wedding  fuit.  I 
fliould  think,therefore,that  amanfliouldkcep  his  finery 
for  the  latter  feafons  of  marriage,  and  not  begin  to 
drefs  till  the  honey-moon  is  over.  I  have  obferved  at. 
ai  lord  Mayor's  feaft,  that  the  fweet-meats  do  not 
make  their  appearance  till  people  are  cloyed  with  beef 
aad  mutton,  and  begin  to  lofe  their  ftomachs-  But, 
infb^ad  of  this,  v/e  ferve  up  delicacies  to  our  guefts 
when  their  appetites  are  keen,  and  coarfe  diet  when 
their  bellies  are  full.  As  bad  as  I  hate  my  filver-but- 
toned  coat  and  filk  night-gown,  I  am  afraid  of  leaving 
them  off,  not  knowing  whether  my  wife  would  not  re- 
cent of  her  marriage  when  (he  f^es  what. a  £lam.  maa^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        245 

flie.  hasto  her  hufband.  ^  Pray,  Mr.  Ironfidey  write 
fomething  to  prepare  her  for  it,  and  let  me  know 
whether  you  think  (lie  can  ever  love  me  in  a  hair  but- 
ton. /^/»,  ^r. 

P.  $.  "  I  fdrgot  to  tell  you  of  my  white  gloves; 
which,  they  fay  too,  I  muft  wear  all  the  firft  month.' 

My  correfpondent*3  obfervations  are  very  juft,  and 
may  be  ufeful  in  low  life  ;  but  to  turn  them  to  the  ad- 
vantage of  people  in  higher  Rations,  I   fhall  raife  the 
moral,  and  obfsrve  fomething  parallel    to  the  wooing 
and  the  wedding-fuit,  in  the  behaviour  of  performs    ot 
figure.     After  long  experience  in  the   world,  and  re- 
fledliions  upon  mankind,  I  find  one  particular  occafion 
of  unlrappy  marriages,  which,  though  very  common, 
is  not  Vviry  much  attended  to.     What  I  mean  is  this  : 
Every  man,  in  the  time  of  courtfliip,  and  in  the  firft 
entrance  of  marriage,   puts  on  a  behaviour  like   my 
corrcfpondent's  holiday  fuit,  which  is  to  laft  no  longer 
than  till   he  is  fettled  in  the  pofiefiion  of  his  miftrefs. 
He  refigns  his  inclinations  and  underflanding  to  her 
humour  and  opinion.  He  neither  loves,  nor  hates,  nor 
talks,  nor  thinks  in  contradiction  to  her.     He  is  con- 
trolled by  a  nod,  mortified  by  a  frown,  and  tranfpert- 
ed  by  a  fmiie.     The  poor  young  lady  falls  in  love  with 
this  fupple  creature,  and  expe6i:s  of  him  the  fame  be- 
haviour for  life.     In  a  little  time  flie  finds  that  he  has 
a  will  of  his  own,  that  he  pretends  to  difiike  what  fhc 
approves,  and  that,  inflead  of  treating  her  like  a  god- 
defs,  he  ufes  her  like  a  woman.     What  ftill  makes  the 
misfortune  worfe,  we   find  the  moft  abjedl  flatterers 
degenerate  into  the  greateft  tyrants.      This  naturally 
fills  the  fpoufe  with  fullennefs  and  difconteut,  fpleen 
and  vapour,  which,  with  a  little  difcreet  management, 
make  a  very  comfortable  marriage.     I  very  much  ap- 
prove of  my  friend  Tc/n  Truelove  in  this  particular,  ^m 
made  love  to  a  woman  of  fenfe,  and  always  treated  her 
as  fuch  during  the  whole  time  of  cGurtfhip.     His  na- 
tural temper  and  good  breeding  hindered  him  from  d" 
ing  any  thing  difa^reeable,  as  hi,§  fipcerity  and  h?    -.* 

W  2 


24*         ADDISONIAN  MTSCELLANl?: 

nefs  of  behaviour  made  himconverfe  with  her,  before- 
marriage,  in  the  fame  manner  he  intended  ta  continue - 
to  do  afterwards.     Tom  would  often  tell  her,  madani^^ 
you  fee  what  fort  of   a  man  I  am*      If  you    will  take 
liie  with  all  my  faults  about  me,  I  promife    to  mend 
rather  than  grow  worfe.     I  remember,  Tom  was  once  ^ 
hinting  his  diflike  of  fome little  trifle  his  miftrefs   had. 
feid  or  done.     Upon  which  Ihe  a{ked  hin^,  how   he 
would  talk  to  her  after  marriage,  if  he   talked  at  this  • 
rate  before  ?  No,  madam,  fays  lom^  I  mention  this  now 
feecaufe  vou  are  at  your  own  difpofal  ;  were   yo"  s»t 
mine,  I  fhould  be  too  generous  to  do  it.     In  fhdrt  Tom.. 
fucceeded,  and  has  ever  fmce  been  better   than  his 
^ord.     The  lady  has  been  difappointed   on  the  right 
fide,  and  has  found  nothing  more  difagreeable  in  the 
jiulband,  than  flie  difcovered  in  the  lover. 

Guardian,  VoU  II.  No.  113c 


I 


CX)NTENTMENT. 


Enquiries  after  h^ppinefs,  and  niles  for^ttaiiv. 
Ing  it,  are  not  fo  neceflary  and  ufeful  to  mankind  as  the  : 
arts  of  confolation,  and  fupporting  one's  feJf  under  af-  « 
:fli<^ion.  The  utmoft  we  can  hope  for  in  this  world, 
is  contentment  -,  if  we  airii  at  any  thing  higher,  we  : 
Ihall  meet  with  nothing  but  grief  and  difappointment. 
A  man  {hould  dire£l  aD  his  ftudies  and  endeavours  at  ^ 
making  himfelf  eafy  now,  and  happy  hereafter. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  if  all  the  happinefs  ihat  is  difpcr- 
fed  through  the  whole  race  of  mankind  in  this  worldV^ 
•were  drawn  together,  and  put  into  the  pofieffion  of .; 
any  (ingle  man,  it  would  not  make  a  very  happy  being  : 
Though  on  the  contrary,  if  the  miferies  of  the  whole.  • 
fpecies  were  fixed  in  a  fingle  perfon,  they  would  make  .> 
a  very  miferable  one. 

I  am  engaged  in  thi5  fubject  by  the  following  letter^r. 
"which,  though  fubfcribed  by  a  fidlitious  name^  I  have 
rtafon  to  bclUrye  is  not  imaginary. 


"I 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  347 

Mr*  Spectator, 


AM  one  of  your  diTciples,  and  endeavour--  to  live 
up  to  your  rules,  which  I  hope  wilT  incline  you  to  pity^ 
my  conditien  :  I  (hall  open   it   to  you  in   a  very    few 
words.     About  three  years  fince,  a  gentleman,  w^;om, 
I  am  fure,  you  ycurfclt"   would    have    approved,  made 
his  addrefies  to  me.     He  had  every  thing    to  recom- 
mend him  but  an  eflate  ;  fo  that  my  friends,  who  all 
of  them  appla-uded  his  perfon,  would  not  for  the  fake 
of  both  of  us  favour  his  paflion.     For  my  own  part,  I 
rcfigned  myfelf  up  entirely  to  the  direclion   of   thofe 
who  knew  the  world  much  better  thin  myfelf,  but  Hill 
lived  in  hopes  that  fome  jmKfture  or  ether  would  make 
me  happy  in  the  man  whom,  in  my  heart,  I  preferred 
to  all  the  world  ;    being    determined,  if  I   could  not 
have  him,  to  have  nobody  elfe.     About  three   months 
ago  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  acquainting  me,  that 
by  the  deatli  of  an  uncle  he  had  a  confiderable  eftate 
left  him,  which  he  faid  was  welcome  to  him  upon  no 
other  account,  but  as  he  hoped    it   would   remove  all 
difficulties  that   lay  in   the  way   to  our  mutual  happi- 
ttefs.     You  may  well  fuppofc  with  how  much  joy  I 
received  this  letter,-  which  was  followed  by    feveral 
others  filled  with  thofe  exprelTions  of  love   and   joy, 
which  I  verily  believe  nobody  felt  more  Cncerely,  nor 
knew  better  hovv^  todefcribe,  t^Min  the,gentleman  I  am 
fpeaking  of..    But  Si*,  how  (hall  I  be  able  to  tell  it  you  ?' 
By  the  laft  week's  poft  I  received  a  letter  from  an  in- 
timate fricTid  of  this  unhappy  gentleman,  acquainting 
me  that  as  he  had  jull  fettled  his  afFairs,a{.'d  was  prepar- 
ing for  his  journey,  he  fell  fick,  and  died.^    It  is  impof* 
fible  to  exprefs  to  you  the  diitrefs  I  arn  in  upon  thi>oc- 
eaCon.     I  can  only   have  recourfe   to   my  devotions, 
and  to  the  reading  of  good  booksfor  my  confolation  j 
and  as  I  always  take  a  particular  delight  in  thofe   fre- 
quent advioes  and   admonitions  which  you  give  the 
p'ji>lic,  it  would  be  a  very  great  piece  of  charity  in  you 
to  lend  me  your  affiflance  in  this  conjuncture.     If  af- 
ter the  reading  of  this  letter  you  find  yourfelf  in  a  hu- 
aaoux  rather  to  rally  and  ridicule,  thaa  to  comfort  me. 


248  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.    , 

I  defire  you  would  throw  it  into  the  fire,  and  think  no 
more  of  it  ;  but  if  you  are  touched  with  my  misfor- 
tune, which  is  greater  than  I  know  how  to  bear,  youc 
counfels  may  very  much  fupDort,  and  will  infinitely 
oblige  the  atHiaed  '  LEONORA." 

A*difappointment  in  love  is  more  hard  to  get  over 
than  any  other  ;  the  paflion  itfelf  fo  foftens  and  fub- 
ducs  the  heart,  that  it  difables  it  from  ftruggling  or 
bearing  up  againft  the  woes  and  diflrefles  which  befall 
it.  The  mind  meets  with  other  misfortunes  in  her 
whole  ftrength  •,  flie  ft  and  s  colle6led  within  herfelfji* 
and  fuftains  the  fhock  with  all  the  force  which  is  natu- 
ral to  her  ;  but  a  heart  in  love  has  its  foundation  fap~ 
ped,  and  immediately  finks  under  the  weight  of  acci- 
dents that  aie  difagreeable  to  its  favorite  pafiion. 

In  afiii(51:ions  men  generally  draw  their  confolations. 
out  of  books  of  morality,  which  indeed  are  of  great 
ufe  to  fortify  and  flrengthen  the  mind  againfl  the  im- 
preilions  of  forrow.  Monfieur  St.  E-vremont,  who  does 
not  approve  of  this  method,  recommends  authors  who 
are  apt  to  ftir  up  mirth  in  the  mind  of  the  readers,  and 
fancies  Den  ^ixotts  can  give  more  relief  to  an  heavy 
heart  than  Plutarch  or  Seneca  ;  as  it  is  much  eafier  to 
divert  grief  than  to  conquer  it.  This  doubtlefs  may 
have  its  effecls  on  fome  tempers.  I  fnould  rather  have 
recourfe  to  authors  of  a  quite  contrary  kind,  that,  give 
us  inftances  of  calamities  and  misfortunes,  and  fhow 
human  nature  in  its  greatefl  diftrefies. 

If  the  affii61:ions  we  groan-  under  be  very  heavy,  we" 
fliall  find  fom.e  confolation  in  the  fociety  of  as  great 
fuffercrs  as  ourfelves,  eipecially  when  we  find  our 
companions  m?n  of  virtue  and  merit.  If  our  afflic- 
tions are  light,  we  fnall  be  comforted  by  the  compari- 
fon  we  make  between  ourfelves  and  our  fellow  fuffer- 
crs. A  lofs  at  fea,  a  fit  of  ficknefs,  or  the  death  of  a 
friend,  are  fuch  trifles  when  we  confuler  whole  king- 
doms laid  in  afnes,  families  piit  to  the  fwcrd,  wretches 
fhut  up  in  dungeons,  and  the  like  calamities  of  man- 
kind, that  we  are  out   of  countenance  for   our  owh 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        249 

wcakncfs,  if  we  fink  under  fuch  little  flrokes  of  for- 
tune.   • 

Lee  the  difcon folate  Leonora  confider,  that  at  the  very 
time  in  which  flie  ianguiflies  for  the  iofs  of  her  deceal- 
cd  lover,  there  are  feveral  parts  of  the  world  juft  per- 
ifliing  in  a  fhipwreck  ;  others  crying  out  for  mercy  in 
the  terrors  of  a  death-bed  repentance  ;  others  lying  un- 
der the  tortures  of  an  infamous  execution,  or  the  like 
dreadful  calamities  \  and  (lie  will  find  her  forrows 
ranifli  at  the  appearance  of  thofe  which  are  fo  much 
greater  and  more  aftoniiliing. 

(.  I  would  faither  propofe  to  the  confideration  of  my 
affli^ied  difciple,  that  pcflibly  what  {he  now  looks  up- 
on as  the  greateil  misfortune,  is  not  really  fuch  in  it- 
fclf.  For  my  own  part,  I  quellion  not  but  our  foul# 
m  a  feparate  ftate  will  look  back  on  their  lives  in  quite 
another  view,  than  what  they  had  of  them  in  the  body  ; 
and  that  what  they  now  confider  as  misfortunes  and 
difappointments,  will  very  often  appera*  to  have  been 
cfcapes  and  bleffings. 

The  mind  that  hath  any  cafl  towards  devotion,  na- 
turally flies  to  it  in  its  afflictions. 

Spectatoh,  Vol.  II.  No.   163. 

I  wa3  once  engaged  in  difcourfe  with  a  Roflcrufian  a- 
bout  the  great /e<rei.  As  tliis  kind  of  men  (I  mean 
tliofe  of  them  who  are  not  profefled  cheats)  are  overrun 
with  enthufiafm  and  phiiofophy,  it  was  very  amuiing 
to  hear  this  religious  adept  defcanting  on  his  pretended 
difcovery.  He  talked  of  the  fecret  as  of  a  fpirit  which 
lived  within  an  emerald,  and  converted  every  thing  that 
was  near  it  to  the  higheft  perfection  it  is  capable  of. 
It  gives  a  luftre,  fays  he,  to  the  fun,  and  water  to  the 
diamond  :  It  irradiates  every  metal,  and  enriches  lead 
vith  all  the  properties  of  gold  :  it  heightens  fmoke 
into  flame,  flame  into  light,  and  light  into  glory.  He 
farther  added,  that  a  fingle  ray  cfit  diflipates  pain,  and 
care,  and  nielanclioly,  from  the  perfon  on  whom  it 
falls.  In  fliort,  fays  he,  its  pre  fence  naturally  changes 
every  place  into  a  kind  of  Heaven.  After  he  had  gone 
on  for  fome  time  ia  this  unintelligible  cant,  I  fouafi 


2^-o         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

that  he  jumbled  natural  and  moral  ideas  together  inter 
the  fame  diicourfe,  and  that  his  great  fecret  was  noth-' 
ing  elfe  but  content. 

This  virtue  does  indeed  produce,  in  fome  meafure, 
all  thofe  effecls  which  the  Aichymift  ufually   afcribes' 
to  what  he  calls  the  philofopher's  ftone  ;  and  if  it  does 
not  bring  riches,  it  does  the  fame  thing,  by  banijfhing  • 
the  delire  of  them.     If  it  cannot  remove   the  difquie- 
tudes  arifing  out  of  a  man's  mind,  body,  or   fortune, 
it  makes  him.  eafy  under  them.     It  has   indeed  a  kind- 
ly influence  on  the  foul  of  m.an,  in  refpe6l  of  every  be- 
ing to  whom,  he  (lands    related.      It  extinguifties  all 
murmur,  repining,  and  ingratitude  tovrards  that  Being' 
who  h.:3  allotted  him  his  part  to  a£^  in  this  world,     it' 
defi;roys  all  inordinate  ambition,  and    every   tendency_ 
to  corruption,  with  regard  to  the  community  wherein' 
he  is  placed.     It  gives  fweetnefs  to  his  eonverfation, 
and  a  perpetual  ferenity  to  all  his  thoughts. 

Among  the  many  methods  which  might  be  made 
ufe  of  for  the  acquiring  of  this  virtue,  I  fhall  only- 
mention  the  tv/o  following.  Firfl:  of  ail,  a  man  fhould 
always  confider  how  much  he  has  more  than  he  wants' j 
and  fecondly,  how  mu^h  mere  unhappy  he  might  bC' 
than  he  really  is. 

Firft  of  all,  a  man  fliould  always  confider  how  much, 
he  has  more  than  he  v/ants.  I  am  wonderfully  pleaf- 
ed  with  the  reply  which  Jrijiippus  made  to  one  who 
condoled  him  upon  the  lofs  of  a  farm  :  Why^  faid  he, 
/  have  three  farms  Jlrll^  and  ycu  have  but  one  \fo  that  1  cught 
rather  to  he  agisted  for  youy  than  you  for  me.  On  the  con- 
trary, fooiifh  men  are  more  apt  to  confider  what  they 
have  loft  than  what  they  poflefs  , .'and  to  fix  their  eyes 
upon  thofe  who  are  richer  than  themfelves,  rather 
than  on  thofe  who  are  under  greater  difficulties.  All 
tlie  real  pleafures  and  conveniencies  of  life  lie  in  a  nar- 
row compafs  ;  but  it  is  the  humour  of  mankind  to  be- 
always  looking  forward,  and  ftraining  after  one  who 
Jias  got  the  ilart  of  them  in  wealth  and  honour.  For 
this  reafon,  as  there  are  none  can  be  properly  called 
rich,  who  have  not  more  than  they  want ;  there  are 
few  r*,i;h  men  in  any  of  the  politer  nations  but  amon^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         251 

.  the  middle  fort  of  people,  who  keep  their  wiflies  with- 
in their  fortunes',  and  have  more  wealth  than  they 
know  hov/  to  enjoy.  Peribns  of  a  higher  rank  live  in 
a  kind  af  fplendid  povtrty,  and  are  perpetually  want- 
.  ing,  becaufe,  inflead  of  acquiefcing  in  the  foiid  plcaf- 
..ures  of  life,  they  endeavour  to  outvie  one  another  in 
iliadows  and  appearances.  Men  of  fenfe  have  at  all 
.times  beheld  with  a  great  deal  of  mirth  this  filly  game 
who  is  playing  over  their  heads,  and,  by  contracting 
their  defircs,  enjoy  all  that  fccret  fatisfa6lion  which 
others  are  always  in  quell  of.  The  truth  is,  this  yWic- 
ulous  chace  after  imaginary  pleafures  cannot  be  fuiTi- 
ciently  expofed,  as  it  is  the  great  fource  of  thofe  evils 
Avhich  generally  undo  a  nation.  Let  a  man's  eftatc 
be  what  it  will,  he  is  a  poor  man  if  he  does  not  live 
within  it,  and  naturally  fets  himfclf  to  falc  to  any  one 
who  can  give  him  his  price.  When  Pittacks^?St.Q,x  the 
death  of  his  brother,  who  had  left  him  a  good  eftate, 
was  offered  a  great  fum  of  money  by  the  king  ciLjdia, 
he  thanked  him  for  his  kindnefs,  but  told  him  he  had 
already  more  by  half  than  he  knew  what  to  do  with. 
In  fliort,  content  is  equivalent  to  wealth,  and  luxury 
to  poverty  ;  or,  to  give  the  thought  a  more  agreeable 
turn,  <OHtent  is  nctural  njosalth,  fays  Sccrates  ;  to  which  I 
fliall  add,  luxury  is  artificial  poverty.  I  fnall  therefore 
recommend  to  the  conilderation  of  thofe  who  are  al- 
ways aiming  after  fuperfluous  and  imaginary  enjoy- 
ments, and  will  not  be  at  tlie  trouble  of  contracting 
their  defires,  an  excellent  faying  of  Bion  the  philofo- 
pher,  namely,  That  no  man  has  fo  much  carCy  as  he  ixho  en- 
dea<vcurs  after  the  mofi  hzippinefs. 

In  the  fecond  place,  every  one  ought  to  reflect:  how 
much  more  unhappy  he  might  be  than  he  really  is. 
The  former  confideration  took  in  all  thofe  who  are 
fufEciently  provided  with  the  means  to  make  them- 
felves  eafy  ;  this  regards  fuch  as  actually  lie  under 
fome  prcmire  or  misfortune.  Thefe  may  receive  great 
alleviation  from  fuch  a  comparifon  as  the  unhappy  per- 
fon  may  make  between  himfelf  and  others,  or  between 
the  misfortune  which  he  fuffers,  and  greater  misfor- 
tunes whigh  might  have  befallen  him. 


2-52         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

I  like  the  ftory  of  the  honeft  Dutchman  who,  upoa 
breaking  his  leg  by  a  fall  from  the  main-maft,  told  the 
ftanders  by,  it  was  a  great  mercy  that  it  was  not  hi» 
neck.  To  which,  fince  I  have  got  into  quotations,  give 
me  leave  to  add  the  faying  of  an  old  philofopher,  who 
after  having  invited  fome  of  his  friends  to  dine  with 
him,  was  ruffled  by  his  wife  who  ca.me  into  the  room 
in  a  pafTion,  and  threw  down  the  table  that  flood  before 
them.  Every  cfte,  fays  he,  /:as  his  calamity^  and  he  is  a  hap- 
fy  man  nvho  has  no  greater  than  this.  We  find  an  inflancc 
to  the  fame  purpofe  in  the  life  of  Doctor  Hamnondy 
written  by  Bifhop  TclL  As  this  good  man  was  trou- 
bled with  a  complication  of  diflcmpers,  when  he  had 
the  gout  upon  him,  he  ufed  to  thank  God  that  it  was 
not  the  flone  ;  and  when  he  had  the  flone,  that  he  had 
not  both  thefe  diftempers  in  him  at  the  fame  time. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  efTay  without  obferving  that 
there  was  never  any  fyftem  befides  that  of  chriftiani- 
ty,  which  could  effectually  produce  in  the  mind  of  man 
the  virtue  I  have  been  hitherto  fpeaking  of.  In  order 
to  make  us  content  with  our  prefent  condition,  many 
of  the  prefent  philofophers  tell  us,  that  our  difcontent 
only  hurts  ourlelves,  without  being  able  to  make  any 
alteration  in  our  circumrtances  ;  others,  that  whatever 
evil  befalls  us,  is  derived  to  us  by  a  fatal  neceflity,  to 
which  die  gods  themfelves  are  fubje£t  ;  while  others 
very  gravely  tell  the  man  who  is  miferable,  that  it  is 
neccflary  he  fhould  be  fo,  to  keep  up  the  harmony  of 
theuniverfe,  and  that  ^\t  fchen:e  of  Providence  would 
be  troubled  and  perverted  were  he  otherwife.  Thefe, 
and  the  like  confiderations,  rather  filence  than  fatisfy 
a  man.  They  may  fliow  him  that  his  difcontent  is 
nnreafonable,  but  are  by  no  means  fufficient  to  relieve 
it :  They  rather  give  defpair  than  confolation.  In  a 
word,  a  man  might  reply  to  one  of  thefe  comforters, 
as  Augujlus  did  to  his  fpiend  who  advifed  him  not  to 
grieve  for  the  death  of  a  perfyn  whom  he  loved,  be- 
caufe  his  grief  could  not  fetch  him  again  :  //  is  for  tbaf 
<vtry  reafony  faicl  the  Emperor,  that  I  grieve. 

On  the  contrary,  religion  bears  a  aiore  tender  regard 
to  human  nature,    it  prifcxib^  to  a  very  miferaWc 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  2^3^ 

.man  the  means  of  bettering  his  condition  ;  nay,  it 
fhows  him,  that  the  b-^aring  of  his  affli£bions  as  he 
ought  to  do,  will  naturally  end  in  the  removal  of 
them  ;  it  makes  iiim  cafy  here,  becaufe  it  can  make 
liim  happy  hereafter. 

Upon  the  whole,  a  contented  mind  is  the  greatei: 
blcfliiig  a  man  can  enjoy  in  this  world  ;  and  it  in  the 
pref^nt  life  his  happinels  arifes  from  the  fabduing  of 
hisdefires,  it  will  arife  in  the  next  from  tjie  gratifica- 
tion of  them. 

SrccTATOR,  .Vol.  VIII.  No.  574. 


CONVERSATION. 

iVl.Y  friend  the  Divine  having  been  iifed  witk 
v/ords  of  complaifaiice  (which  he  thinks  could  be  pro- 
perly applied  to  no  one  living,  and  I  thmk  could  be 
only  fpokcn  of  him,  and  that  in  his  abf^nce)  was  fo  ex- 
_  tremely  offended  with  the  exceilive  way  of  fpeaking 
civilities  among  us,  that  he  made  a  difcourfe  againft  it 
5Vt  the  club;  which  he  concluded  with  this  remark, 
that  he  had  not  heard  one  compliment  made  in  our 
fociety  iince  its  commencement.  Every  one  was 
pleafed  with  this  conclufion  ;  and  as  each  knew  his 
good-will  to  the  rr  ft,  he  was  convinced  that  the  many 
profeffions  of  kindncfs  and  fervice  which  we  ordinari- 
ly meet  with,  are  not  natural  w'ic-re  the  heart  is  well 
■inclined  j  but  arc  a  proititution  offpeech,  fcldom  in- 
tended to  mean  any  p;irt  of  what  they  exprirfs,  never  to 
mean  all  they  exprefs.  Our  reverend  friend,  upon 
this  topic,  pointed  to  us  two-or  three  paragraphs  on 
•thi$  fubjed;  in  tiic  firil  f'rmon  of  the  firft  volume  of 
the  late  archbiihop's  pofthurnous  works.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  ever  read  any  thing  that  pleafcd  me  more  ; 
and  as  it  is  the  praife  of  Longinus^  that  he  fpeaks  of 
the  fublime  in  a  ftile  fuitablc  to  it,  fo  one  may  fay  of 
this  au'Jior  upon  fmcerity,  that  he  abhors  any  pomp  ' 
of  rhetoric  on  this  occafion,  a«d  treats  it  with  b  moii 
than  ordinary  fimplicity,  at  !>ace  to  be  a  preacher  and 
an  example.  With  wnat  command  of  himfelf  does 
X 


254  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY, 

he  lay  before  us,  in  the  langugge  and  temper  of  his 
profeilion,  a  fault,  which  oy  the  Icafl:  liberty  and 
warmth  of  expreffion,  would  be  the  moft  lively  wit 
and  fatire  ?  But  his  heart  was  better  difpofed  ;  and 
the  good  man  chaftifed  the  great  wit  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner, that  he  was  able  to  fp-:ak  as  follows  : 

<^ -^-Among   too    many    other  inflances  of  the 

great  corruption  and  degeneracy  of  the  age  wherein 
we  live,  the  great  and  general  want  of  lincerity  iu 
converfation  is  none  of  the  lead.  The  world  has 
grown  fo  full  of  diffimulation  and  compliment,  that 
men's  words  are  hardly  any  fignification  of  their 
thoughts  ;  and  if  any  man  meafure  his  words  by  his 
heart,  and  fpeak  as  he  thinks,  and  do  not  e::prefs 
more  kindnsfs  to  every  man,  than  men  ufually  have 
for  any  man,  he  can  hardly  efcape  the  cenfure  of  want 
of  breeding.  The  old  Er.gUJIi  plainnefs  and  fmcerity, 
that  generous  integrity  of  nature,  and  honefty  of  dif- 
pofition,  which  always  argues  true  greatnefs  of  mind, 
and  is  ufually  accompanied  with  undaunted  courage 
and  refolution,  is  in  a  great  meafure  loft  among  us  : 
there  hath  been  a  long  endeavour  to  transform  us  into 
foreign  manners  and  fafliions,  and  to  bring  us  to  a 
fervile  imitation  of  none  of  the  beft  of  our  neighbours 
in  fome  of  the  word  of  their  quahtics.  The  dialedk 
of  converfation  is  now-a-days  fo  fwelled  with  vanity 
and  compliment,  and  fo  furteited  (as  I  may  fay)  with 
expreflions  of  kindnsfs  and  refpecl,  that  if  a  man  who 
lived  an  age  or  two  ago  ihould  return  into  the  world 
again,  he  would  xeally  want  a.di(3tionary  to  help^  him 
to  underftand  his  awn  .language,  and  to  know  the  true 
intrinfic  value  of  the  phrafe  in  fafnion,  and  would 
hardly  at  firll  believe  at  what  a  low  rate  the  higheil 
{trains  and  expreflions  of  kindnefs  imaginable  do  com- 
monly pafs  in  current  payment  ;  and  vthen  he  ihould 
come  to  underftand  it,  it  would  be  a  great  while  be- 
fore he  could  bring  himfelf  with  a  good  countenance 
.aftl  a  good  confcience  to  conyerfe  with  men  upon 
equal  terms,  and.  in  their  own  way. 

And  in  truth  it  is  hard  to  fay,  whether  it  fhould 
more  proyoke  our  contempt  or  our  pity,  to  hear  wl^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  t^S 

folemn  expreflions  of  refpecfl  and  kindnefs  will  pafs 
between  men,  almoft  uprTii  no  occafion  ;  how  great 
honour  and  efteem  they  will  declare  for  one  whom 
perhaps  they  never  faw  before,  and  how  entirely  they 
are  all  on  the  fudden  devoted  to  his  fervice  and  inter- 
cft,  for  no  rcafon  ;  ho'v  infinitely  and  eternally  ob- 
liged to  Inm,  for  no  benefit  ;  and  how  cxtiemely  they 
v/111  be  concerned  for  him,  yea,  and  affli£led  too,  for 
no  caiife.  I  know  it  is  faid,  in  juilification  of  this  hol- 
low kind  of  converfation,  that  there  is  no  harm,  no 
real  deceit  in  compliment,  but  the  matter  is  wdi 
enough  fo  long  as  we  underftand  one  another  ;  et  tuer- 
ha  'valcnt  ut  manmi  \  i^ords  are  like  money  :  and  when 
the  current  value  of  them  V.  generally  underftood,  no 
man  is  cheated  by  them.  This  is  fometliing,  if  fuch 
words  were  any  thing  ;  but  being  brought  into  the 
accompt,  they  are  mere  cyphers.  However,  it  is  (lill 
a  jull  matter  of  complaint,  that  (mccrity  and  plainnefs 
are  out  of  falhion,  and  that  our  language  is  running 
into  a  lye  ;  that  men  have  almoft  quite  perverted  the 
ufe  of  fpecch,  and  made  words  to  fignify  nothing  5 
that  the  greatefl  part  of  the  converfation  of  man^kind 
is  little  eife  but  driving  a  trade  of  diflimulation  •,  in- 
fomuch  that  it  would  make  a  man  heartily  (ick  and 
weary  of  the  world,  to  fee  the  little  fincerity  that  isin 
ufe  and  practice  among  men."  ^ 

When  the  vice  is  placed  in  this  contemptible  light,  he 
argues  unanfwerably  againft  it,  in  words  and  thoughts^ 
fo  natural,  that  any  man  v/ho  reads  them,  would 
imagine  he  himfelf  could  have  been  tiie  author  of.them. 
"If  the  fliow  of  any  thing  be  good  for  any  tlfing,  I 
am  fure  fincerity  is  better.  For  why  does  any  man 
difl'emble,  or  feem  to  be  that  which  he  is  not,  but  be- 
caufc  he  thinks  it  good  to  have  fuch  •  a  quality  as  he 
pretends  to  .'*  For  to  counterfeit  and  diiiemble,  is  to 
put  on  the  appearance  of  fome  real  excellency.  Now 
the  bcft  way  in  the  world  to  feem  to  be  any  thing,  is 
really  to  be  what  he  would  feem  to  be.  Befides,  that  it 
is  many  times  as  troublefome  to  make  good  the  pre- 
tence of  a  good  quality,  as  to  have  it;  and  if  a  man 
have  it  not,,  it  is  ten  to  ont  btit  he  is  dtfcovered  to 


7s6  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  | 

want  it  ;  and  then  all  his  pains  and  labour  to  leem  to 
have  it,  is  loft." 

In  another  part  of  the  fiime  difcourfe  he  goes  on 
to  .{hew,  that  all  artifice  muft  naturally  tend  to  tlie 
difappointment  of  him  who  pra<Sl:ires  it. 

**  Whatfoever  convenience  may  be  thought  to  be 
in  faiihood  and  diflimulatlonj  is  foon  over  ;  but  the 
inconvenience  of  it  is  perpetual,  becaufe  it  brings  a 
plan  under  an  everhfting  jealoufy  and  fufpicion,  fa 
that  he  is  not  believed  when  he  fpeaks  truth,  nor  trufk- 
.  ed  when  perhaps  he  means  hoiieflly.  When  a  man 
hath  once  forfeited  the  reputation  of  his  integrity,  h« 
is  fet  fail,  and  nothing  will  then  ferve  his  turn,  neith* 
er  truth  nor  falfhood." 

Spectator,  Vol.  II.  No.   103. 

The  faculty  of  interchanging  our  thoughts  with  one 
another,  or  what  wc  exprefs  by  the  word  con-veijationf 
has  always  been  rcprefented  by  moral  writers  as  one; 
of  the  nobleft  privileges  of  jreafon,  and  which  more 
particularly  lets  mankind  above  the  biute  part  of  the 
creation. 

Though  nothing  fo  much  gains  upon  the  afte^liona 
7i%  t\\\s  extempore  eloquence,  which  we  have  conftantly 
occaiion  for,  and  are  obliged  to  pracSlife  every  day,  we 
fcry  rarely  meet  with  any  who  excel  in  it. 

The  converfation  of  mod  men  is  difagreeable,  not 
fo  m.uch  for  want  of  wit  and  learning,  as  of  good- 
breeding  and  difcretion. 

If  you  refolve  to  pleafe,  never  fpeak  to  gratify  any 
particular  vanity  or  paihon  of  your  owh,  but  always, 
with  a  defign  either  to  divert  or  inform  the  company. 
A  man  who  only  aims  at  one  of  thefe,  is  always  eafy 
iji  his  difeourfe.  He  is  never  out  of  humour  at  be- 
ing interrupted,  becaufe  he  confjders  that  thofe  who 
hear  him  are  the  beft  judges  whether  what  he  was 
faying  could  either  divert  or  inform  them. 

A  modeft  perfon  feldom  fails  to  gain  the  good  will 
of  thofe  he  converfes  with,  becaufe  nobody  envies 
a  man  wko  does  not  appear  to  be  pleafed  with  hira- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        as 7 

We  {liould  talk  extremely  little  of  ourfelves.  In- 
deed what  can  we  fay  ?  It  would  be  as  imprudent  to- 
difcover  our  faults,  as  ridiculous  to  count  over  our 
fancied  virtues.  Our  private  and  domeftic  affairs  are 
no  lefs  improper  10  be  introduced  in  converfation. 
Whiit  does  it  concern  the  company  how  many  horfes 
you  keep  in  your  {lables  ?  Or  whether  your  fervant 
is  moft  knave  or  fool  ? 

A  man  may  equally  affront  the  company  he  is  In 
by  engroffing  all  the  talk,  or  obferving  a  contemptu- 
ous filcnce. 

Before  you  tell  a  ftory  it  may  be  generally  not  amif* 
to  draw  a  fnort  characSler,  and  give  the  company  a 
true  idea  of  the  principal  perfons  concerned  in  it. 
The  beauty  of  mofl  things  confifting  not  fo  much  in 
their  being  faid  or  done,  as  in  their  being  faid  or  done 
by  fuch  a  particular  perfon,  or  on  fuch  a  particular 
^ccafion. 

Notwithftanding  all  the  ^vantages  of  youth,  few 
young  people  plcafe  in  converfation  ;  the  reafon 
13,  tbr.t  want  of  experience  makes  them  pofitive,  and 
what  they  fay  is  rather  with  a  defign  to  pleafe  them- 
fclves  thiUJ  any  one  elfe. 

It  is  certain  that  age  itfelf  {hall  maike  many  things 
pafs  weli  enough,  which  would  have  been  laughed  at 
in  the  mouth  of  one  much  younger. 

Nothing,  however,  is  more  infupportablc  to  men  of 
fenf©,  than  an  empty,  formal  man,  who  fpeaks  in  prov- 
erbs, and  decides  all  controverfies  with  a  fhort  fen- 
tence.  This  piece  of  ftupidity  is  the  more  infutfera- 
ble,  as  it  puts  on  the  air  of  wildom. 

A  prudent  man  v.-ill  avoid  talking  much  of  any  par- 
ticular fcience,  for  which  he  is  remarkably  famoOs, 
There  is^not  methinks  an  handfomer  thing  faid  of  Mr. 
Coivley  in  his  own  life,  than  that  none  but  his  intimate 
friends  ever  difcoveredhe  was  a  great  poet  by  his  di^ 
courfe,  Befides  the  decency  of  this  rule,  it  is  certainly 
founded  in  good  policy.  A  perfon  who  talks  of  any 
thing  ht  is  already  famous  for,  has  little  to  get,  but  ^ 
great  deal  to  lofe.  I  might  add,  that  he  \riio  is  fom^ 
times  filent  on  a  fubjeft  wheve  every  oije  is  fati^fied 


f^       ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY, 

he  could  Ipeak  well,  will  often  be  thought  no  lefs 
knowing  in  other  matters,  where  perhaps  he  is  wholly- 
ignorant. 

Women  are  frightened  at  the  name  of  argument, 
and  are  fooner  convinced  by  an  happy  turn,  or  witty 
cxpreflion  than  by  demonftratron. 

Whenever  you  commend,  add  your  reafcns  for  do- 
ing fo  •,  it  is  this  which  diftinguifhes  the  approbatiortJ 
of  a  man  of  fenfe  from  the  flattery  of  fycophaats,  and 
admiration  of  fools. 

Raillery  is  no  longer  agreeable  than  while  the  whole, 
company  is  pleafed  with  it.  I  would  leaft  of  ail  be 
underftood  to  except  the  perfon  rallied. 

Though  good  humour,  fenfe  and  diferetion  can  fel- 
dom  fail  to  make  a  man  agreeable,  it  may  be  no  ill  pol- 
icy fomethnes  to  prepare  yourfelf  in  a  particular  m.an- 
tier  for  converfation,  by  looking  a  little  farther  than 
your  neighbours  into  whatever  is  become  a  reigning 
lubjeft  :  If  our  armies  arc  befieging  a  place  ot  im- 
portance abroad,  or  our  Houfe  of  Commons  debating  a- 
bill  of  confequence  at  home,  you  can  hardly  fail  of  be- 
ing lieard  with  pleafure,  if  you  have  nicely  informed 
yourfelf  of  the  ftrength,  fituation,  and  hiftory  of  the: 
firfk,  or  of  reafons  for  and  again  It  the  latter.  It  will 
have  the  fame  effedi,  if  when  any  fingle  perfon  begins 
to  make  a  noife  in  the  world,  you  can  learn  fome  of 
the  fmalleft  accidents  in  his  life  or  converfation,  which 
though  they  are  too  fine  for  the  obfervation  of  the: 
vulgar,  give  more  fatisfadlion  to  men  of  fenfe,  (as 
they  are  the  beft  openings  of  a  real  character)  than- 
the  recital  cf  his  moft  glaring  a£lions.  I  know  but 
one  ill  confequence  to  be  feared  from  this  methodj 
namely,  that  coming  full  charged  into  company,  you 
ihould  refoive  to  unload,  whether  an  handfome  oppor- 
tunity offers  itfelf  or  not. 

Though  the  afking-  of  queftions  may  plead  for  itfelf,, 
the  fjecious  names  of  modefty,  and  a  defire  of  infor- 
mation, it  afTbrds  little  pleafure  to- the  reft  of  the  com- 
pany who  are  not  troubled  with  the  fame  doubts  ;  be- 
W«s  whicbj  Ij/e  whoaQss  a  quell i©a  would  4o  well  t^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        259 

confider  that  he  lies  wholly  at  the  mercy  o£  another 
before  he  receives  an  anfwer. 

Nothing  is  more  Tilly  than  the  pleafures  fome  people 
tajce  in  what  they  call  /peaking  their  minds.  A  man  of 
this  make  will  fay  a  rude  thing  for  the  mere  pleafure 
of  faying  it,  when  an  oppofite  behaviour,  full  as  in- 
nocent, might  have  prcferved  his  friend,  or  made  his 
fortune. 

It  is  not  impofiible  for  a  man  to  form  to  himfelf  as 
exQuifite  a  pleafure  in  complying  with  the  humour 
and  fcntiments  of  others,  as  of  bringing  others  over 
to  his  own  ;  fince  'tis  the  certain  fign  of  a  fuperior 
genius,  that  can  take  and  become  whatever  drcfs  it 
pleafes. 

I  fiiall  only  add,,  that  befides  what  I  have  here  faid, 
there  is  fomething  which  can  never  be  learnt  but  in 
the  company  of  the  polite.  The  virtues  of  men  are 
catching  as  well  as  their  vices,  and  your  own  obferva- 
tions  added  to  thefe,  will  foon  difcovt-r  what  it  is  that 
commands  attention  in  one  man,  and  makes  you  tired 
and  difpleafed  with  the  difcourfe  of  another. 

GuA?vDIAN,    Vol.    I.    No.    25. 


T. 


COUNTRY  GENTLEMAN.       7 


HERE  is  no  charafter  more  defervedly  cfleem- 
ed  than  that  of  a  Country  Gentleman,  who  underftands 
the  fituation  in  which  Heaven  and  nature  have  plac- 
ed him.  \\t  is  father -to  his  tenants,  and  patron  to  his 
neighbours,  and  is  m.ore  fuperior  to  thof:^  of  lower  for- 
tune, by  his  benevolence  than  his  polTeihons.  He 
juilly  divides  his  tini€  between  folitude  and  company, 
ib  as  to  ufe  the  one  for  the  other.  His  life  is  fpent  in 
the  good  offices  of  an  advocate,  a  referee,  a  compan- 
ion, a  mediator,  and  a  friend.  His  counfel  and  knowj- 
edge  are  a  guard  to  the  fimplicity  and  innocenee  .of 
thofe  of  lower  talents,  and  the  entertainment  and  hap- 
pinefs  of  thofe  of  equal.  When  a  man  in  a  country 
life  has  this  turn,  "as  it  is  hoped  thoufands  have,  he 
Uvea  iu  a  more  happy  gouditioiUhaii  acy  that  is  defcri- 


263         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

bed  in   the    paftoral  defcriptions  of  poets,  or  the  vaiii 
glorious  foiitudes  recorded  by  philofophers. 

To  a  thinking  man  it  would  feem  prodigious,  that 
the  very  fituation  of  a  country  Hfe,  does  not  incline 
men  to  a  fcorn  of  the  mean  gratifications  fome  take  in 
it.  lo  ftand  by  a  dream,  naturally  lulls  the  mind  in- 
to compofure  and  reverence  ;  to  walk  in  (liades,  diver- 
fifies  that  pleafure  ;  and  a  bright  funfhine  makes  a 
man  conHJjr  all  nature  in  gladnefs,  and  himfelf  the 
happicll  being  in  it,  as  he  is  the  moft  confcious  of  her 
gifts  and  enjoyments.  It  would  be  the  moft  imperti- 
nent piece  of  pedantry  imaginable,  to  form  our  plea- 
fures  by  imitation  of  others.  I  will  not  therefore 
mention  ^cipio  and  Lcelius,  who  are  generally  produced 
on  this  fubje^t  as  autlrorities  for  the  charms  of  a  ru- 
ral life.  He  who  does  not  feci  the  force  of  agreeable 
views  and  fjtuations  in  his  own  mind,  will  hardly  ar- 
rive at  the  fatisfadion  they  bring  from  the  reflections 
of  others.  However,  they  who  have  a  tafte  that  way, 
are  more  particularly  inflamed  with  defire  whern  they 
fee  others  in  the  enjoyment  of  it,  efpecially  when  men 
carry  into  the  country  a  knowledge  of  the  world  as 
well  as  of  nature.  The  leifure  of  fuch  perfons  is  en- 
deared and  refined  by  reflections  upon  cares  and  in- 
quietudes. The  abfence  of  paft  labours  doubles  pre- 
fent  pleafures,  which  is  ftill  augmented,  if  the  perfon* 
in  folitude  has  the  happinefs  of  being  addicted  to 
letters.  My  coufln,  Frank  Bickerfiaff^  gives  me  a  very 
good  notion  of  this  fort  of  felicity  in  the  following 
letter  :.  4 

■■•  I 

Sir,  ; 

**  I  WRITE  this  to  communicate  to  you  the  happi-  j 

nefs  I  have  in  the  neighbourhood  and  cpnverfation  of  .; 

the  noble  Lord,  whole  health  you  inquired  after  in  \ 

your  la  it.     I  have  bought  that  little  hovel  which  bor-  1 

ders  upon  his   royalty  ;  but  am  fo  far  from  being  cp^  ^ 

prefled  by  his   greatnefs,  that  I,  who  know  no  envy,  ^ 

and  he,  who  is -above  pride,  mutually  recommended  | 
ourfelvcs  to  each  other  by  the  difference  of   our  ^■ciX-^-'h 

tunes.     He  elteems  me  for  being  fo  well  pkafed  witii  ^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  %6i 

a  little,  and  I  admire  him  for  enjoying  fo  handfomely 
a  great  deal.  He  has  not  tho.  little  taile  of  obferving 
txie  colour  of  a  tulip,  or  the  edging  of  a  leaf  of  box, 
but  rejoices  in  open  views,  the  re^ulariry  ct  this  plan- 
tat  icn,  and  the  wildnefs  of  another,  as  well  as  the  fall 
or  a  river,  the  rifing  of  a  promontory,  and  all  other 
objc£ls  fit  to  entertain  a  mind  like  hi?,  tliat  has  been 
long  verfed  in  great  and  public  amuicments.  The 
mind  of  the  fouT  is  as  much  fecn  in  kilure  as  in  bufi- 
nefs.  He  has  long  lived  in  courts,  and  been  admired 
in  ?.flenbli!^3,  fo  that  he  has  added  to  exp-iiience  a 
mod  charming  eloquence,  by  which  he  communicates 
to  me  the  ideas  of  my  own  mind  upon  the  obje^s  we 
meet  with  fo  agreeably,  that  with  his  company  in  the 
field,  I  at  once  enjoy  the  country  and  alancifcape  of  it. 
He  is  now  altering  the  courfe  of  canals  and  rivulets, 
in  which  he  has  an  eye  to  his  neighbour's  fatisfa£lion 
as  well  as  his  own.  He  often  makes  me  prefents  by 
turning  the  water  into  my  grounds,  and  fends  me  fim 
by  their  own  dreams.  To  ^.void  my  thanks,  he  makes 
jiatiire  the  initrumentof  liis  bounty,  and  docs  all  good 
ofiices  (o  much  with  the  air  of  a  companion,  that  his 
frankncTs  hides  his  own  condefcenficn  as  well  as  my 
eratitude.       Leave    tlie    world    to    itfelf  and    come 


lee  us. 


Your  afFe61:ionate  Coufin,"  &c. 
Tatler,  Vol.  m.  No.   169. 


CREATION. 

*«  J[  HE  Spring  with  you  has  siready  taken  poflef- 
fio'.i  of  the  fields  and  woods  :  Now  is  the  feafon  of 
folitude,  nnd  of  moving  complaints  upon  trivial  fufler- 
ings  :  Now  the  griefs  of  lovers  begin  to  flow,  and 
their  wounds  to  bleed  afrefh.  I  too,  at  this  diftance 
from  the  fofter  climates,  am  not  without  my  difcon- 
tents  at  prefent.  You  perhaps  may  laugh  at  me  for  a 
mod  romantic  wretch,  vvhen  I  have  dH^loied  to  yoa 
the  occafion  of  rriy  uneafin-^fs  ;  and  yet  I  c  ♦nrot  help 
thinking  my   unhappiaefs  real^  in  being  confined  to  a 


252         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

region  which  is  the  very  reverfe  oi  Patadife^.  The  fea- 
foDS  here  are  all  of  them  uiipleafant,  and  the  country 
quite  deilitute  of  rural  charms.  I  have  not  heard  a 
bird  fmg,  Aor  a  brook  murmur,  nor  a  breeze  whifper, 
neither  have  I  been  blell  with  the  fight  of  a  flowery 
meadow  thefe  two  years.  Every  wind  here  is  a  tem- 
ped, and  every  water  a  turbulent  ocean.  I  hope, 
when  you  reflecSt  a  little.you  will  not  think  the  grounds 
of  my  complaint  in  tlis  leaft  ftivolous  and  unbecom- 
ing a  man  of  ferious  thought  j  fince  the  love  of  woods, 
of  fields  and  fiov/trs,  of  rivers  and  fountains,  feems 
to  be  a  paflion  implanted  in  our  nature  the  moil  early 
of  any,  even  before  the  fair  fex  had  a  being." 

Could  I  tranfport  myfelf  with  a  wifh  from  one  coun- 
try  to  another,  i  fhould  choofe  to  pafs  my  winter  in 
Spain y  my  fpring  in  Italy,  my  fummer  in  England^  and 
my  autumn  in  trance.  Of  all  thcfe  feafons  there  is 
none  that  can  vie  with  the  fpring  for  beauty  and  <le- 
lightfulnefs.  It  bears  the  fame  figure  among  the  fe.i- 
fons  of  the  year  that  the  m.orning  does  among  the  di^- 
vifions  of  the  day,  or  youth  among  the  ftages  of  life. 
The  Englijh  fum.mer  is  pleafanter  than  that  of  any  oth- 
er country  in  Enrcp^  on  no  other  account  but  becaufe 
it  has  a  greater  mixture  of  fpring  in  it.  The  niildnefe 
of  our  climate,  with  thofe  frequent  refrefnments  of 
dews  and  r^ns  that  fall  among  us,  keep  up  a  perpetu- 
al cheerfulnefs  in  our  fields,  and  fill  the  hotteft  months 
of  the  year  with  a  lively  verdure. 

In  the  opening^  of  the  fpring,  when  all  nature  begins 
to  recover  herfelf,  the  fame  animal  pleafure  which 
makes  the  birds  ^v^g')  and  the  whole  brute  creation  re- 
joice, riles  very  fenfibly  in  the  heart  of  man.  I  know 
none  of  the  poets  who  have  obferved  fo  well  as  Milton 
thofe  fecret  overflowings  of  gladaefs  which  diffufe 
themfelvcs  through  the  mind  of  the  beholder,  upon 
furveying  the  gay  fcenes  of  nature  :  He  has  touched 
upon  it  twice  or  thrice  in  his  Paradife  Loji,  and  de- 
fcnbes  it  very  beautifully  under  the  name  of  vernal 
delight,  in  that  paflage  where  he  reprefents  the  dcvii 
himfclf  as  almoll  fenfible  of  it. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         26 


.Blo£om  and  fruits  at  once  of  golden  hue 

Aj^pear'dy  iiuith  ^ay  ena^^.-ell'd  colours  mixt ; 

On  auhich  the  fun  more  glad  imprefs'  d  his  beams 

Than  in  fair  ev^ening  clcud,  or  humid  hozu 

When  God  hath  Jhs<iver  d  the  earth  ;  fo  loxely  fern  d 

'J hat  landffiip  :  And  cf  purest  ho-iv  purer  air 

Meets  his  approach,  and  to  the  heart  i>f hires 

Hf;        Vernal  delight,  and  joy  all-  to  ^ri-ve 

^        Allfa.inef  but  defpair,  ^c. 

Many  authors  have  written   on  the  A'nnity  of  the 
creatur^,  and  rcprefentetl  the  barrennefs  of  every  thing 
in  this   worki,  and   its    incapacity  of   producing   any 
folid  or  fubilantial  happinefs.       As  difcourfcs  of  tliis 
nature  are  very  ufeful  to  the   feiifual  and  voUiptuous, 
tliofe  fpeculations  which  O^ew  the  bright  iidc  of  things, 
and  lay  forth  thofe  innocent  entertainments  which  are 
to  be  met  with  among  tlie  feveral  object:)  that  encom- 
pafs  us,  are  no  lefs  beneficial  to  men  of  dark  and  mel- 
ancholy tempers.     It  was  for   this  reafon  that  I    en- 
deavoured to  recommend  a  chccrfulnefs  of  mind  in  my 
two  lad  Saturdays  papers,  and  which  I  would  ftiU  in- 
culcate, not  only  from  the  conlidt^ration  of  ourfelves, 
I  and  of  that  Being  on  whom  we  depend,  nor  from  the 
jgeneral  furvey  of  that  univerfe  in  which  we  are  placed 
at  prefent,  but  from  refle£lions  on  the  particular  fea- 
fon  in  which  this  paper  is  written.     The  creation  is  a 
j  perpetual  feafl;  to  the  mind   of   a   good   man,  every 
i  thing  he  fees  cheers    and    delights   him  :  Providence 
I  has  imprinted  fo  many  fmiles  on  nature,  that  it  isim- 
pofTibie  for  a  mind    which  is  not  funk  in    more  grofs 
I  and  fenfual  delights,  to  take  a  furvey  of  them  without 
I  fevcral  fecret  fenfations  of  pleafure.     The  Pfalmift  has 
in  feveral  of  his  divine  poems  cel'-:brated  thole  beauti- 
ful and  agreeable  fceiies  which  mr.ke   the  heart    glad, 
and  produce  in  it  tliat  vernal  delight  which  I  have  be- 
fore taken  notice  of. 

Natural  philofophy  quickens  this  tafte  of  the  crea- 
tion, and  recders  it  not  only  pleafing  to  the  imagina- 
tior>j  but  to  the  underflanding.  It  does  not  reft  in  the 
murmur  of  brook^^and  the  melody  of  birds,  in  the  fhaeie 
iOf  groves  and  woods,  or  in  the  embroidery  of  fields 


264  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

and  meadows,  but  confiders  the  feven-1  ends  of  Provi- 
dence which  arc  feived  by  them,  a«d  the  wonders  of 
divine  wrfdom  which  appear  in  them.  It  heightens 
the  .pleafurcs  of  the  eye,  and  ralfes  fuch  a  rational  ad- 
miration in  the  foul,  as  is  litile  inferior  to  devotion. 

It  is  not  in  the  power  of  every  one  to  offer  up  this 
kind  of  v/orfhip  to  the  great  Author  of  Nature,  and  to 
indulge  thefe  more  refined  meditations  of  heart,  which 
are  doubtlefs  highly  acceptable  in  his  fight  *,  I  fhall 
therefore  conclude  this  fhort  eOay  on  that  pleafure 
which  the  mind  naturally  conceives  from  the  prefent 
"feafon  of  the  year,  by  the  recommending  of  a  practice 
for  which  every  one  has  futficient  abilities. 

I  would  have  my  readers  tindeavour  to  moralize  this 
natural  pleafure  of  the  foul,  and  to  improve  this  "ver- 
nal delight,  as  Milton  calls  it,  into  a  chriftian  virtue. 
When  we  find  ourfoU-es  infpircd  v/ith  this  pleafnig  in- 
ftin^t,  this  fecret  fatisfa^tion  and  complacency,  arifing 
from  the  beauties  of  the  creation,  let  us  coniider  to 
whom  we  iland  indebted  for  all  thefe  entertainments 
of  i'enfe,  and  who  it  is  that  thus  opens  his  hand  and 
fills  the  world  v.'ith  good.  The  Apoftle  inftrufts  us 
to  take  advantage  of  our  prefent  temper  of  mind,  to 
graft  upon  it  fuch  a  religious  exercife  as  is  particular- 
ly conformable  to  it,  by  that  precept  which  advifes 
thofe  who  are  fad  to  pray,  and  thofe  v.'ho  are  merry  to 
fing  pfalms.  The  cheerfulncfs  of  hearts  whiclinpvings 
up  in  us  from  the  furvey  of  nature's  worksj  is  an  ad- 
mirable preparation  for  gratitude.  The  mind  has 
gone  a  great  way  towards  praifc  and  thanfgiving  that 
is  .filled  with  fuch  a  fecret  gladneTs.  A  grateful  re- 
fle£l:ionon  the  fupreme  canie  who  produces  it,  fan£ii- 
fies  it  in  the  foul,  and  gives  it  its  proper  value.  Such 
an  habitual  difpofition  cf  mind  confeciates  every  field 
and  wood,  turns  an  ordinary  walk  ^to  a  morning  or 
evening  facrifice,  and  will  improve  thofe  tranfient 
gleams  of  joy  which  naturally  brighten  up,  ai'id  refreih 
the  foul  on  fuch  occafions,  into  an  inviolable  and  per- 
petual ftate  of  bUfs  and  happinefs. 

SPECTATOR;  Vol.  V.  No.   393v 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        26$ 
HYMN  OF  GRATITUDE. 

^  HEN  all  thy  monies,  0  my  Goii, 
My  riJJng  fcul  fuy^je.s  ; 
^ran/ported  ixith  the  ^-ieiv,  Pm  loft 
In  '-wonder y  love,  and  praife. 

0  hc^jc  Jhall  twords  luith  equal  'warmth 

The  gratitude  declare, 
^hat  glows  nxithin  my  ra^vifh'd  heart  f 

But  thou  cavji  read  it  there, 

7'hy  Providence  my  life  fujiain^dy 

And  all  my  n.i: ants  redreft, 
When  in  the  fient  luomb  1  lay^ 

And  hurg  upon  the  breaft. 

To  all  my  if-eak  complaints  and  <ries. 

Thy  mercy  lent  an  ear. 
Ere  yet  my  feeble  thoughts  had  learnt 

To  form  thcmfel-ves  in  prayr. 

Unnumbered  comforts  to  my  fotti 

Thy  tender  care  iefionudi 
Before  my  irfant  heart  conceinj'd 

From  ^whence  thefe  comforts  floiv'd, 

V/ken  iniheJlippWy  paths  of  youth 

With  heedhfs  fteps  I  ran, 
%hine  arm  unjeen  ccn-vefd  mefafe. 

And  led  me  up  to  man, 
Hlirough  hidden  dangers,  toils,  and  deaths ^ 

It  gently  cleared  my  'way. 
And  through  the  pleafng  fnares  of  'vice, 
^Mcre  to  be  feared  than  they. 

When  'wvrn  'with  ftcknefs  oft  haft  thou 

With  health  renew  d  my  face  t 
And 'when  in  fins  and  for  ro=ws  funk, 

Rc'viv'd  my  foul  'with  grace. 

Thy  bounteous  hand  'with  ^worldly  hlifs 

Has  made  my  cup  run  o  er. 
And  in  a  kind  and  faithful  friend 

Has  doubled  all  my  ft  ore, 
X 


S.€6  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

Ten  thoufand  thoufand  precious  giftt 

My  daily  thanks  e>nploy , 
IJor  is  the  leaji  a  cheerful  heart 

That  tajies  thofe  gifts  iKithjoy, 
Through  e'very  period  of  my  life 

^  hy  goodnefs  Vll  purfue; 
.And  after  death  in  diftant  ivorlds 

The  glorious  theme  reneiv- 
When  nature  fails i  and  day  and  night 

Di'viJe  thy  (works  no  mere, 
My  enjer- grateful  heart,  O  Lord, 

'i  hy  mercy  Jhall  adore, 
J  hrough  all  eternity  to  thee 
'  J  joyful  fa  ng  Til  raife. 

For  0/  Eternitji^  too  Jhort 

To  utter  all  thy  praife.  C. 

Spectator/ Vol.  VT.  No.  453' 


DEVOTION. 

JiN  my  laft  Saturday's  paper  I  laid  down  fome 
..thoughts  upon  Devotion  in  general,  and  fhall  here 
Ihew  what  were  the  notions  of  the  mod  refined  Hea- 
thens on  this  fubje6t,  as  they  are  reprefented  in  Plato'% 
dialogue  upon  prayer,  entitled,  Ahibiades  the.  Second, 
/which  doubtlefs  gave  occafion  to  Ju'venal\  tenth  fa- 
vtire,  and  to  the  fecond  fatire  of  Perfus  \  as  the  lail  of 
thefe  authors  has  almoft  tranfcribed  the  preceding  di- 
alogue, tntiil^dy  Jlcibiades  the  i^/r/,  in  his  fourth  fa- 
tire. 

The  Ipeakers  in  this  dialogue  upon  prayer,  are 
Socrates  and  Ahibiades  ;  and  the  fubflance  of  it  (when 
drawn  together  out  of  the  intricacies  and  digrelhons) 
as  follows : 

Socrates  meeting  his  pupil  Ahibiades,   as  he  was  go^ 
a  ng  to  his  devotions,  and  obferving  his  eyes  to  be  fix- 
ed upon  the  earth  with  great  fericufnefsand  attention, 
tells  him,  that  he  had  reafon  to  be  thoughtful  on  that 
occafion,  fmce  it  was  pofTibk  for  a  man  to  bring  down 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  267 

>  evils  upon  himfelf  by  his  own  prayers,  and  that  thofe 
things  which  the  gods  fend  him  in  anfwer  to  his  peti- 
tions might  turn  to  his  deftruO.ion.  This,  fays  he^ 
may  not  only  happen  when  a  man  prays  for  what  he 
knows  is  mifchievous  in  its  own  nature,  as  OsMpus  im- 
plored the  gods  to  fow  difTention  between  his  fons  , 
but  when  he  pravs  for  what  he  believes  would  be  for 
his  good,  and  againft  what  he  believes  would  be  to  his 
detriment.  This  the  philofopher  fliews  mufl  necef- 
farily  happen  among  us,  fince  moft  men  are  blinded 
with  ignorance,  prejudice,  or  paffion,  which  hinder 
them  from  fceiiig  fuch  things  as  are  really  beneficial  to 
them.  For  an  inftance,  he  nfks  Alcibia^esy\Nht\.\\zx  he 
would  not  be  thorougiiiy  pleafed  and  fatisfied,  if  that 
Gcd,  to  whom  he  v/as  going  to  addrefs  himfelf,  (hould 
promife  to  make  him  ihe  fovereign  of  the  whole 
earth  ?  Aldbiades  anfwcrs,  that  he  fliould  doubtlefs  look 
upon  fuch  a  promife  as  the  greateft  favour  that  could 
be  bellowed  upon  him.  Socrates  then  aiks  him,  if,  af- 
ter receiving  this  great  favour,  he  would  be  co.V- 
tented  to  Joofe  >his  life  ?  Or  if  he  would  receive  in 
though  he  was  fure  he  fliould  make  an  ill  ufe  of  it  ? 
To  both  of  which  queflions,  Aldbiades  anfwers  in  the 
negative.  Socrates  then  ihows  him,  from  the  examples 
of  oihersj  how  thefe  might  very  probably  be  the  eiTecls 
of  fuch  a  blelhng.  He  then  adds,  that  other  reputed 
pieces  of  good  fortune,  as  that  of  having  a  fon,  or 
procuring  the  highefl  pcil  in  a  government,  are  fub- 
jtCi  to  the  like  fatal  confcquences  ;  which  neverthe- 
lefs,  fays  he,  men  ardently  defire,  and  would  not  fail 
to  pray  for,  if  they  thought  their  prayers  might  be  ef- 
fectual for  the  obtaining  of  them. 

leaving  eftabliHied  this  great  point,  that  all  the  moft- 
apparent  ble flings  in  this  life  are  obnoxious  to  fuch 
dreadful  confcquences,  and  that  no  man  knov/s  what 
in  the  event  would  prove  to  him  a  bleffing  or  a 
curfe,  he'  teaches  Alcibiades  after  what  manner  he 
ought  to  pray. 

in  the  hrit  place  he  recommends  to  him  as  the 
model  of  his  devotions,  a  fliort  prayer  which  a  Greek 
f  ostcom^ofcd  for  the  uie  of  his  friends,  ia  the  fellow- 


c,6S         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

jng words;  O  Jupiter y give  us tbc/e  things  nvhich  ar$ gcod 
for  usy  ^whether  ihey  &re  fur h  things  as  ixe  •fray  for^  or  Juch 
things  as  ixe  do  not  pray  for  ;  aiid  remote  from  us  thofe 
things  nxhich  are  hurtjul^  though  they  are  fuch  things  as  Oi'tf 
fray  for. 

In  the  fecond  place,  that  his  dlfciple  may  aflc  fuch 
•things  as  are  expedient  for  him,  he  ftiews  him,  that  it 
is  abiblutely  neceffary  to  apply  himfelf  to  the  ftudy  of 
true  wifdom,and  to  the  knowledge  of  that  wliich  is  his  l 
chief  good,  and  the  mod  fuitable  to  the  excellency  of  ' 
his  nature. 

In  the  third  and  laft  place  he  iKforms  him,  that  the 
Ijeft  methods  he  could  make  ufe  of  to  draw  down  blef- 
fmgs  upon  himfelfj  and  to  render  his  prayers  acceptable 
would  be  to  live  in  a  conftant  pra6i:ice  of  his  duty  to- 
wards the  gods,  and  towards  men.  Under  this  head  . 
he  very  much  recommends  a  form  of  prayer  the  Lace'-  | 
demonians  make  ufe  of,  in  which  they  petition  the  gods,  1 
to  gi'-ve  them  all  good  things  fa  long  as  they  nvere  'virtueup, 
"Under  this  head  likewife  he  gives  a  very  remarkable 
account  of  an  oraple  to  the  following  purpofe  : 

Vv''hen  the  Jthenians  m  the  war  with  tlie  Lacedemtmi- 
ans  received  many  defeats  both  by  fea  and  land,  they 
■fent  a  mefleiiger  to  the  oracle  of  Jupiter  Anunon^  to  afk 
ihe  reafon  why  they  who  erecled-  fo  many  tem,ples  to 
the  gcdsj  and  adorned  them  with  fuch  cofcly  offerings  ; 
why  they  who  had  inftituted  fo  many  fellivals,  and 
accompanied  them  with  fuch  pomps  and  ceremonies; 
in  {hort,  why  they  who  had  iJain  fo  many  Hecatombs 
at  their  altars,  fnould  be  lefs  fuccefsful  than  the  Lacc- 
demoniansy  who  fell  fo  fnort  of  them  in  all  thefe  particu-  ) 
lars.  To  this,  fays  he,  the  oracle  made  the  following  | 
reply  :  /  a7n  better  pleafed  ixjiih  the  prayers  of  the  Lacede-  I 
monians,  than  nvith  all  the  oblations  cp  the  Greeks.  As  1 
this  prayer  implied  and  encouraged  virtue  in  thofe  who  ^ 
made  it  ;  the  philofopher  proceeds  to  fhew  how  the  i 
mod  vicious  man  might  be  devout,  fo  far  as  victims  \ 
could  make  him,  but  that  his  offeriags  were  regarded  \ 
by  the  gods  as  bribes,  and  his  petitions  as  blafphemies.  j 
He  likewife  quotes  on  this  occafion  two  verfes  out  of  \ 
^m^r^  ijj  whigii  the  poet  fays,  that  the  fcent  of  tlici    ■ 


A'D'DISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  769 

f^/^/A/zfacrifices  was  carried  up  to  heaven  by  thc^vinds ; 
but  that  it  was  not  acceptable  to  the  gods,  who  were 
difpleafed  with  Priam  and  all  his  people. 

The  conclufion  of  this  dialogue  is  very  remarkable. 
Socraies  having  deterred  Akibiadei  from  the  prayers  and 
facritices  which  he  was  going  to  offer,  by  fctting  forth 
the  aboi'e-mentioncd  difficulties  of  performing  that 
duty  as  he  ought,  add-s  thefe  words  :  We  muji  there* 
fore  IK) ait  till  fuch  lime  as  njoe  may  learn  ho^vj  nxe  ought  to  he- 
have  our/i  In;  cs  towards  the  gods ^  and  towards  men.  But 
when  will  that  time  come,  fays  Alcibiades^  and  who  is 
h  that  will  inftrud  us  ?  For  I  would  fain  fee  this 
man,  whoever  he  is.  It  is  one,  fays  Sscratesy  who  takes 
care  of  you  \  but  as  Homer  tells  us  that  Mi/ierva  remov- 
ed the  mill  from  th?  eyes  of  I^i5;/?f^^;,  that  he  might  plain- 
Jy^  difcover  both  gods  and  men  ;  fo  the  darkncfs  that 
hangs  upon  your  mind  mufl;  be  removed  before  yoik 
are  able  to  difcern  what  is  good  and  what  is  evil.  Let 
him  remove  from  my  mind,  fays  JLiliades,  the  dark- 
nefs,  and  what  eife  he  pltafes,  I  am  determined  to  re- 
fufe  nothing  he  fhall  order  nie,  whoever  he  is,  fo  that 
I  may  becoMic  the  better  man  by  it.  The  remaining 
part  of  this  dialogue  is  very  obfcure  :  there  is  fome- 
thing  in  it  that  would  make  us  think  Socrates  hinted  at 
himlelf,  when  he  fpoke  of  this  divine  teacher  who 
was  to  come  into  the  v/ovld,  did  not  he  own  that  he 
himfelf  was  in  this  rcfpscl  as  m.uch  at  a  lofs,  and  irv 
as  great  diflrefs,  as  the  reft  of  mankind. 

8ome  learned  men  look  upon  this  conclufion  as  a 
prediftion  of  our  Saviour,  or  at  leaft  that  Socrates ,  like 
the  High-Prieft,  prophefied  unknowingly,  and  point- 
ed at  that  divine  teacher  who  v/as  to  come  into  the. 
world  fome  ages  after  him.  However  that  may  be, 
"we  find  that  this  great  philofop  her  faw,  by  the  light 
of  reafon,  that  it  was  fuitable  to  the  goodnefs  of  the 
Divine  Nature,  to  fend  a  perfon  into  the  world  who 
fliould  inftru6l  mankind  in  the  duties  of  religion,  and 
in  particular,  teach  them  how  to  pray. 

Whoever  reads  this  abllract  of  Platc\  difcourfeoa 
prayer,  will,  I  believe,  naturally  make  this  reflection, 
that  the  graet  Founder  of  our  religion,  a$  wdl  by  U% 

Y  2  '         , 


i7d        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

own  example,  as  in  the  form  of  prayer  which  he  taught 
his  difciples,  did  not  only  keep  up  to  thofe  rules  which 
the  light  of  nature  had  fuggelled  to  this  great  phiio- 
jTopher,  but  inftrucled  his  difciples  in  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  this  duty,  as  well  as  of  all  others.  He  direct- 
ed them  to  the  proper  objecSt  of  adoration,  and  taught 
themi,  according  to  the  third  rule  above  mentioned,  to 
apply  themfelves  to  him  in  their  clofets,  v.'ithout  fho\y 
or  ollentation,  and  to  woriliip  him  in  fpirit  and  in 
truth.  As  the  Lacedemonians  in  their  form  of  prayer 
implored  the  gods  in  general  to  give  them  all  good 
things  fo  long  as  they  were  virtuous  ;  we  afk  in  par- 
ticular that  cur  offences  tnay  be  forgpuen^  as  'u;e  forgive  thoft 
•fathers.  If  we  look  into  the  fecond  rule  which  So^ratet 
has  prefcribed,  namely,  that  we  fhould  apply  our- 
felves  to  the  knowledge  of  fuch  things  as  are  belt  for 
us,  this  too  is  explained  at  large  in  the  doclrines  of  the 
'jofpel,  where  we  are  taught  in  feveral  inftances  to  re- 
gard thofe  things  as  curfes  which  appear  as  blefiings> 
in  the  eye  of  the  world  ;  and  on  the  contrary,. 
to  efteem  thofe  things  as  bleffings  which  to  th« 
generality  of  mankind  appear  as  curfes.  Thus 
in  the  form  which  is  prefcribed  to  us  we,  only 
pray  for  that  happinefs  which  is  our  chief  good,  and 
the  great  end  of  our  exiftenc*,  v/hen  we  petition  the 
t5uprem>e  Being  for  the  coming  cfhis  kingdom.,  being  fo  • 
»!icitous  for  no  other  tem.porai  bleffings  but  our  daily 
Juftenance.  On  the  other  fide  we  pray  againft  nothing 
but  fin,  and  againft  evil  in  general,  leaving  it  wiih 
Omnifcieiice  to  determine  what  is  really  fuch.  If  w^e 
look  into  the  firft  rules  of  prayer  by  Socrates  in 
which  he  recommends  the  above-mentioned  form  of 
the  ancient  poet,  we  find  that  form  not  only  compre- 
liended,  but  very  much  improved,  in  the  petition, 
"wherein  we  pray  to  the  Supreme  Being  that^/Vw;/^ 
viay  be  done  \  which  is  of  the  fame  force  with  that 
form  which  our  Saviour  ufed  when  he  prayed  againft 
the  moft  painful  and  moft  ignominious  of  deaths, 
^■veverthekfsy  not  my  nvill,  but  thine  be  done.  This  GOmpre- 
henfive  petition  is  the  moft  humble   as  well    as   the 

i»Qft  prwdent  that  9^5  be  offered  up  fiQin  fhe  gre^ 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         271 

tureto  his  Creator,  as  it  fuppofes  the  Supreme  Being 
wills  nothhig  but  what  is  for  our  good,  and  that  he 
knows  better  than  ourfeh^es  what  is  fo. 

Spectator,  VoL  III.  No.  207.  L. 

If  there  were  no  other  confequence  of  it,  but  barely 
that  human  creatures  on  this  day  aflembled  themfelves 
before  their   Creator,  without   regard   to    their  ufual 
employments,  their  minds  at  leifure  from   the    cares 
of  this  life,  and  their  bodies  adorned  with  the  bed  at- 
tire they  can  bcP.ow  on  them  ;  I   fay,  were  this  mere 
outwavd  celebration  of  a   Sabbath  all  that  is  expected 
from  men,  even  that  were  a  laudable  dillinclion,  and 
and  a  purpofe  worthy  the  human  nature.     But  when 
there  is  added  to  it  the  fublime  pleafure  of  devotion, 
our  being  is  exalted  abf)ve  itfelf ;  and  he  who  fpends 
a  feventh  day  in  the  contemplation    of  the  next  life, 
will  not  eafily  fall  into  the  corruptions  of  this  in  the 
other  fix.     They  who  never   admit    thoughts  of  this 
kind  into  their  imaginations,   lofe  higher  and  fweeter 
fatisfa^tions  than  can  be    laifed   byi    any  other  enter- 
tainment.    The  mofi:  illiterate  man  who  is  touched 
with  devotion,  and  ufes  frequent  exercifes  of  it,  con- 
tracts a  certain  greatncfs  of  mind,  mingled  with  a  no- 
ble fimplicity,  that  raifes  him  above  thofe  of  the  fame 
condition  ;  and  there  is  an  indehable  mark  of  good- 
n?fs  in  thofe   who   hncerely   po/Iefs   it.     It  is  hardly 
poiTible  it  fliould  be  otherwife  ;    for  the  fervors  of  a 
pious  mind  will  contract  fuch    an  earneftnefs  and  at- 
tention towards  a  better  Being,  as  will  make  the  ordi- 
nary^ paHages  of  life  go  oft  with  a  becoming  indiffer- 
ence.    By  this  a  man  in  the  lowed  condition  will  not 
appear  mean,  or  in  the  mod  fplendid  fortune,  infolent. 
As   to   all    the   intricacies   and    vicillitudcs   under 
which  men  are  ordinarily  entangled  with  the   utmoft 
forrow  and   paflion,  one  who  is  devoted  to  Heaven, 
when  he  falls  mto  fuch  difficulties,  is  led   by   a  clue 
through  a  labyrinth  :  As  to  this  world,  he  does  not  pre- 
tend to  (kill  m  the  mazes  of  it,  but  fixes  his   thoughts 
upon  one  certainty,  that  he   fliall    foon   be  out  of  it. 
And  we  may  alk  very  boldly,  what  can  be  a  more  fure 
■fonfoIatiQn  than  to  h^ve  au  Jiope  in  death  ?  Wh^a 


272  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANT,  i 

men  are  arrived  at  thinking  of   their   very  dlflblutionf  a 
with  plenfure,  hew  few  things   are  there  that  can  b^    \ 
terrible  to  them  ?  Certainly   nothing  'can  be  dreadful    I 
to  fuch  fpirits,  but  what  would  make  death  terrible  to    i 
them,  fal(l:icod  towards  manor  impiety  towards  Hea-   ! 
ven.     To  fuch  as  thefe,  ?,s  t-here  are    certainly  many    ] 
fuch,  the  gratifications  of  innocent  pleafures  are  dou-     i 
bled  even  with  refleclions    upqn  their  imperfedlion.    , 
The  cir^ppolntinents  which  naturally  attend  the  great 
pTomifes  we  make  ourfelves  in  expected   enjoyments, 
flrike  no  damp  upon  fuch  men,  but  only  quicken  their 
hopes  of  foon  knov.  ing  joys  \\hich  are  too  pure  to  ad- 
mit of  allay  or  fatiety. 

It  is  thought  among  the  politer  fort  of  mankind  an 
imperfe'ftion  to  want  a  relifh  of  any  of  thofe  things 
which  refine  cur  lives.  '  This  is  the  'foundation  of  the 
acceptance  which  eloquence,  mufic,  and  poetry  make- 
in  the  world  •,  and  I  kiiOW  not  why  devotion,  confid-- 
cred  merely  as  an  exaltation  of  cur  happinefs,  ftiould 
not  at  lead  be  fo  far  regarded  as  to  be  confidered. 
It  is  poiTible  the  very  inquiry  would  lead  men  into 
fuch  thoughts  and  gratifications  as  they  did  not  expedl 
to  meet  with  in  this  place.  Many  a  good  acquaint- 
ance has  been,  iofl  from  a  trenerai  prepofieflion  in  his 
disfavour,  and  a  fevere  afpedl  has  often  hid  under  it  a  j 
very  agreeable  companion. 

There  are  nodiftinguifhing  qualities  among  men  to 
which  there  are  not  falfe  pretenders  ;  but  though 
jione  is  mor«  pretended  to  than  that  of  devotion, 
there  are  perhaps  fewer  fuccefsful  impoftures  in  this  * 
kind  than  any  other.  There  is  fomething  fo  natively 
greatand  good  in  a  perfon  who  is  truly  devout,  that  an 
aukward  man  may  as  v/ell  pretend  to  be  genteel,  as  an 
hypociiteto  be  pious.  The  confiraint  in  words  and 
adions  are  equally  vifible  in  both  cafes,  and  any  thing 
fet  up  in  their  room  does  but  remove  the  endeavourers 
the  farther  from  their  pre/tenfions.  But  however  the 
fenfeof  tru£  piety  is  abated,  there  is  no  other  motive 
of  aftion  that  can  carry  us  through  all  the  viciffitudes 
of  life  with  alacrity  and  refolution.  But  piety,  like 
pliilofophy,  when  it  is  fupe):iigi?d;  d^es  but  make  mea 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY,        373 

appear  the  worfe  for  it  ;  and  a  principle  that  is  but 
half  received,  does  but  diflracl,  inftead  of  guiding  our 
behaviour.  When  I  relied:  upon  the  unequal  con- 
cu£l  oi  Lotiusy  I  fee  many  things  that  run  direclly 
counter  to  his  intereft  ;  therefore  I  cannot  attribute 
his  labours  for  the  public  good  to  ambition.  When  I 
confider  his  diffsrgard  to  his  fortune,  I  cannot  eftceni 
him  covetous.  How  then  can  I  reconcile  his  neg- 
led:  of  himfeif,  and  his  zeal  for  others?  I  have  long 
fufpeded  him  to  be  a  lltde  pious  :  But  no  man  ever 
hid  his  vice  with  greater  caution  than  he  does  his  vir- 
tue. It  vi^as  the  praiie  of  a  great  Roman,  that  he  had 
rather  be,  than  appear,  good.  But  fuch  is  the  ^eak- 
neis  of  Lotiusy  that  1  dare  fay  he  had  rather  be  efteem- 
€d  irreligious  than  devout.  By  1  know  not  what  im- 
patience of  railkry,  he  is  wonderfully  fearful  of  being 
thought  too  great  a  believer.  An  hundred  little  devi- 
ces are  made  ufe  of  to  hide  a  time  of  private  devotion  : 
and  he  will  allow  you  any  fufpicion  of  his  being  ill 
employed,  fo  you  do  not  tax  him  with  being  well.  But 
alas  !  How  mean  is  fuch  a  behaviour  ?  To  boaft  of 
virtue  is  a  mod  ridiculous  way  of  difappointing  the 
merit  of  it,  but  not  fo  pitiful  as  that  of  being  afhamed 
of  it.  How  unhappy  is  the  wretch  who  makes  the 
moil  abfoiute  and  indepcndant  motive  of  a6lion  the 
caufe  of  perplexity  and  inconflancy  !  How  much  an- 
other figure  does  Callkola  make  with  all  who  know 
him  !  His  great  and  fuperior  mind,  frequently  exalt- 
ed by  the  raptures  of  heavenly  meditation,  is  to  all  his 
friends  of  the  fame  ufe  as  if  an  angel  were  to  appear 
at  the  decilion  of  their  difputes.  They  very  well 
underftand  he  is  as  much  difmterefted  and  unbialTed 
as  fuch  a  being.  He  confiders  all  applications  made 
tohim  as  thofeaddreffes  will  effedl  his  own  applica- 
tions made  to  Heaven.  All  his  determinations  are 
delivered  with  a  beautiful  humility  •,.  and  he  pronoun- 
ces his  decifions  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  more  fre- 
quently a  fupplicant  than  a  judge. 

Thus  humble,  and  thus  great,  is  the  man  who  is 
moved  by  piety,    and  exalted  by   devotion.     But  be- 


274        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

holdtkis  recommended  by  the  mafterly  hand  ef  a  gfca^ 
divine  I  have  heretofore  made  bold  with. 

*'  It  is  fuch  a  pleafure  as   can  never    cloy  or  over- 
work the  mind  j  a  delight  that  grows  and   improves 
under  tliought  an?'  refle6tion  ;  and  while  it  exercifes, 
does  alfo  endear  itfelf   to   the  mind.       All    pleafnres 
that  aiFecl  the   body  mull  needs  weai^,  becaufe  they 
tranfport  y  and  all    tranfportation  is  a  violence  ;  and- 
no  violence  can    be  lading,  but  determines  upon   the 
falling  of  the  fpirits,  which  are  not  able   to  keep  up 
that  height  of  motion  that   the  pleafure  of  the  fenfes  • 
raifcs  iliem  to.  And  therefore  how  inevitably  does  atj- 
immoderate  laughter  end  in  a  figh,  which  is  only  na- 
ture's recovering  itfelf  after  a   force  done  to  it  :  But' 
the  religious  pleafure  of  a  v/ell  difpofed  mind  moves 
gently,  and  therefore   conftantly.     It  does  not   afFedt 
by  rapture  and  extacy,  but  is  like  the  pleafure  of  health,  . 
greater  and  (Ironger  than  thofe  that  call  up  the  fenfes 
with  grofferand  more  affedling  impreflions.    No  man's 
body  is  as  ftrong  as  his  appetites  ;  but  heaven  has  cor- 
re£ted  the  boundlefTriefs  of  his  voluj)tuous  defires  by 
ilintinghis  ftrength,  andcontraclinghiscapacities:  The^ 
pleafure  of  tl*e  religious  man  is  an  eafy  and  a  portable 
pleafure,  fuch  an  one  as  he  carries  iri  his  bofom,  with-- 
out  alarming  either  the  eye  or  the  envy  of  the  world. 
A  man  putting  all  his  pleafures  into  this  one,  is  like  a 
traveller  putting  all  his    goods    into    one  jewel  ;  the 
value  is  the  fame,  and  the  convenience  greater." 

Tatler,  Vol.  iV.  No.  21 K 


I 


DISCRETION. 

HAVE  often  thought  if  the  minds  of  men  were:' 
i-iid  opesr,  we  fliould  fee  but  little  ditTerence  batween- 
that  of  the  wife  man  and  that  of  the  fool.  There  are 
infinite  re-verias,  numberlefs  extravagances,  and  a  per- 
petual train  of  vanities  which  pafs  through  both.  The 
great  difference  is,  that  the  firit  knows  how  to  pick 
and  cull  his  thoughts  for  converfation,  by  fupurelfrng 
feme,  and  communicating  others  5    whereas  the  ath- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        27J 

er  lets  them  all  indifferently  fly  out  in  words.  This 
ibrt  of  difcretion,  however,  has  no  place  in  private 
convcrfation  between  intimate  friends.  On  fuch  oc-' 
cafions,  the  wifefl  men  very  often  talk  like  the  weak- 
eft  ;  for  indeed  the  talking  with  a  friend,  is  nothing 
clfe  but  thinking  louJ. 

TuHyhis  therefore  very  juftly  expofed  a  piecept  de- 
livered by  fwme  ancient  writers,  that  a  man  fliould 
Jiv;:  with  his  enemy  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  might 
leave  him  Tcom  to  become  his  friend  ;  and  wit^ 
his  friend  in  fuch  a  manner,  that  if  ,  he  became 
his  enemy,  it  (hould  not  be  in  his  power  to  hurt 
him.  The  firft  p:\rt  of  this  rule,  which  regards  our 
behaviour  towards  an  enemv,  is  inJced  very  reafona- 
ble,  as  we  1  as  very  prudciitid  •,  but  the  latter  part  of 
it,  which  regards  our  behaviour  towards  a  friend,  fa- 
vours more  of  cunning  than  of  difcretion,  and  would 
cut  a  man  off  from  the  grentcd  pleafurcs^of  life,  whicli 
:ir?  the  freedoms  of  converfaticn  with  a  bofom  friend. 
Befides  that  vhen  a  friend  is  turned  into  an  enemy, 
and  (as  the  fon  of  Sirach  calls  him)  a  betrayer  of  fe- 
creto,  the  world  is  juft  'enough  to  accufc  the  perfidiouf- 
.  nefs  of  the  friend,  rather  than  the  indifcretion  of  the 
perfon  who  confided  in  him. 

Difcretion  does  not  only  fhew  itfelf  in  words,  but  in 
all  the  ci^cumftances  ofaa:ion;  and  is  like  an  under- 
agent  of  Providence,  to  guide  and  direct  us  in  the  or- 
.  dinary  concerns  of  life. 

There  are  many  more  fhining  qualities  in  the  mhid 
of  man,  but  there  is  none  fo  ufefui  as  difcretion  ;  it  is 
this  indeed  which  gives  a  value  to  all  the  reft,  which 
fets  them  at  work  in  their  proper  times  and  places, 
and  turns  them  to  the  advantage  of  the  perfon  who  is 
foffeffed  of  them.  Without  it  learning  is  pedantry, 
and  wit  impertinence ;  virtue  itfelf  looks  like  weak- 
nefs  ;  the  bcft  parts  only  qualify  a  man  to  be  more 
fprightly  in  errors,  and  active  to  his  own  prejudice. 

Nor  does  difcretion  only  make  a  man  the  mafter  of 
his  own  parts,  but  of  other  men's.  The  difcreet 
inan  finds  out  the  talents  of  thofe  he  converfes  with, 
aacl  kuQWS  how  to  apply  them  to  proper  ufe§.    Ac* 


276        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

cordingly,  if  we  look  into  particular  communities  and 
divifions  of  men,  we  may  obferve  that  it  is  the  difcreet 
man,  not  the  witty,  nor  the  learned,  nor  the  bxavC) 
who  guides  the  converfation  and  gives  meafures  to 
the  fociety.  A  man  with  great  talents,  but  void  of 
difcretion^  is  like  Polyphemus  in  the  fable,  ftrong  and 
blind,  endued  with  an  irrefillible  force,  which  for 
want  of  fight  is  of  no  ule  to  him. 

Though  a  man  has  all  other  perfections,  and  wrrits 
difcretion,  he  will  be  of  no  great  confequence  in  the 
world  ;  but  if  he  has  this  fingle  talent  in  perfe«Slion, 
and  but  a  common  iliare  of  others,  he  may  do  what  he 
pleafes  in  his  parcicular  ftation  of  life. 

At  the  fams  time  that  I  think  difcretion  the  moil 
ufeful  talent  ^  man  can  be  mafter  of,  I  look  upon 
cunning  to  be  the  accomplillmient  of  little,  mean,  un- 
generous minds.  Difcretion  points  out  the  nobleft 
ends  to  us,  and  purfues  the  moft  proper  and  lauda- 
ble methods  of  attaining  them  :  cunning  has  only  pri- 
vate, felfrih  aims,  and  (licks  at  nothing  which  may 
make  them  fucceed.  Difcretion  has  large  and  ex- 
tended views,  and  like  a  well-formed  eye,  commands 
a  whole  horizon  :  cunning  is  a  kind  of  Ihort-fighted- 
ncfsj  that  difcovers  the  minuteil  objects  which  are  near 
at  hand,  but  is  not  able  to  difcern  things  at  a  diftance. 
Dn^'cretion,  the  more  it  is  difcovered,  gives  a  greater 
authority  to  the  perfon  who  poUefles  it :  cunning, 
when  it  is  once  detecSled,  lofes  its  force,  amd  makes  a 
man  incapable  of  bringing  about  even  thofe  events 
which  he  might  have  done,  had  he  pafled  only  for  a 
plain  man.  Difcretion  is  a  perfe&ion  of  reafon,  and 
a  guide  to  us  in  all  the  duties  of  life  :  cunning  is  a 
kind  of  inftind,  that  only  looks  out  after  our  imme- 
diate intereft  and  welfare.  Difcretion  is  only  found 
in  men  of  ftrong  fenfe  and  good  underftanding  ::  cun«; 
ning  is  often  to  be  met  with  in  brutes  themfelves,  and 
in  perfons  who  are  but  a  few  removes  horn.  them» 
In  (hort,  cunning  is  only  the  mimicks  of  difcretion, 
and  may  pafs  upon  weak  men  in  the  fame  manner  as 
vivacity  is  often  miftaken  for  wit,  *nd  gravity  for  wif-*' 
dom. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        17^ 

The  caft  of  mind  which  is  natural  to  a  difcreet  man, 
r."  ikes  him  look  forward  into  futurity,  and  confider 
Vv'hat  will  be  his  condition  millions  of  ages  hence,  as 
well*  as  what  it  is  at  prefent.  He  knows  that  the 
iTiifery  or  happinefs  which  are  referved  for  him  in  an- 
other world,  lofe  nothing  of  their  reality  by  being 
placed  at  fo  great  a  diftanee  from  him.  The  objects 
do  not  appear  little  to  him,  becaufe  they  are  remote. 
He  confulers  that  thofc  pleaiures  and  pains  which  lie 
3ud  in  eternity,  approach  nearer  to  him  every  moment, 
and  will  be  prefent  with  him  in  their  full  weight  and 
meafure,  as  muciias  thofc  pains  and  pleafures  which 
he  feels  at  this  very  inftant.  For  this  reafon  he  is 
careful  to  fecure  to  himfelf  that  which  is  the  proper 
happinefs  of  his  nature,  and  the  ultimate  def.gn  of 
his  being.  He  carries  his  thoughts  to  the  end  of  eve- 
ry action,  and  confiders  the  moft  diflant  as  well  as  the 
moil  immediate  efFe£l:s  of  it.  He  ^fuperfedcs  every 
little  profpecl  of  gain  and  advantage  which  offers  it- 
felf  here,  if  he  does  not  find  it  confident  with  his 
views  of  an  hereafter.  In  a  word,  his  hopes  are  full 
of  im.iiortality,  his  fchemes  are  large  and  glorious, 
and  his  condu(Si:  faitable  to  one  who  knows  his  true 
intcred,  and  how  to  purfue  it  by  proper  methods. 

I  have,  in  this  elTiy  upon  Difcrction,  conlidcred  it 
both  as  an  accomplifiiment  and  as  a  virtue,  and  have 
therefore  dcfcribed  it  in  its  full  extent ;  not  only  as  it 
is  converfant  about  worldly  affairs,  but  as  it  regards 
our  whole  exiflence  ;  not  only  as  it  is  the  guide  of  a 
mortal  creature,  but  as  it  is  in  general  the  di- 
re61:or  of  a  reafonable  being.  It  is  in  this  light 
that  difcretion  is  reprcfented  by  the  wife  man, 
who  fometimcs  mentions  it  under  the  name  of  dif- 
cretion, and  fometimes  under  that  of  wifdom.  It  ii 
indeed  (as  defcr"bed  in  the  latter  part  of  this  paper) 
the  greatelt  wifdom,  but  at  the  fame  time  in  the  pow- 
er of  every  one  to  attain.  Its  iidvantages  are  infinite, 
but  its  acquifitions  eafy  ;  or  to  fpeak  of  her  in  the 
words  of  the  apocryphal  writer,  whom  I  quoted  in 
my  lafl  Saturday's  paper,  "wifdom  is  glorious,  an4 
never  fadcth  awav  5  yet  ilie  is  eafily  fecn  of  them  thi^t 


^7^  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

love  her,  and  found  of  fuch  who  leek  her  ;  fhe  pre- 
venteth  them  that  feek  her,  in  makhig  themfclvts 
l-:nown  unto  them.  He  that  feeketh^her  early,  fliall 
have  no  great  travel,  for  he  (hall  fmd  her  at  her  door. 
To  think  therefore  of  her,  is  perfection'  of  wifdom, 
and  whofo  watcheth  for  her,  fliall  quickly  be  without 
care  ;  for  (lie  goeth  about  feeking  fuch  as  arev/orthy  of 
her,  fheweth  herfelf  favourably  unto  them  in  the  ways, 
and  meeteth  them  in  every  thought." 

Spectator,  Vel.  III.  No.  225. 

DISTRESSES.       s^  "^ 

Xji.ETER  the  mind  has  been  empioyec/on  contem- 
plations fuitable  to  its  greatnefs,  it  is  unnatural  to  run 
into  fudden  mirth  or  levity  ;  but  we  mull  let  the  foul 
lubfide  as  it  rofc,  by  proper  degrees.  My  late  confid- 
erations  of  the  ancient  heroes,  impreffed  a  certain 
gravity  upon  my  mind,  which  is  much  above  the  lit- 
gratification  received  from  Harts  of  humour  and  fancy, 
and  threw  me  into  a  pleafmg  fadnefs.  In  this  ftate  of 
thought  I  have  been  looking  at  the  fire,  and  in  a  penfive 
manner  refleding  upon  the  great  calamities  and  niisfor- 
tunes  incident  to  human  life  ;  among  which  tliere  are 
none  that  touch  (o  fenfibly  as  thofe  which  befal  peifons 
who  eminently  love,  and  meet  v/itli  faiai  interruptions 
t)f  their  happinefs,  when  they  leaft  expe^l  it.  The 
piety  of  children  to  parents,  and  the  affc^lion  of  par- 
ents to  their  children,  are  the  cfFedls  of  inftincl:  :  But 
the  affection  between  lovers  and  friends^  is  founded  on 
reafon  and  choice,  which  has  always  made  me  think, 
the  forrows  of  the  latter  much  more  to  be  pitied  than 
Ihofe  of  the  former.  Fhe  contemplation  of  diitreflbs  of 
this  fort,  foftens  tiie  mind  of  man, and  makt  s  the  heart 
better.  It  v.xtiii^uiflies  the  feeds  of  envy  and  ill-will 
towards  mankind,  correels  the  prid?  of  profperity,  and  \ 
bears  down  all  th^t  fiercenefs  and  infolencc  which  are  , 
apt  to  get  into  the  minds  of  the  darin  i;  and  fortunate.  "•■ 
For  this  reafon  the  wife  Jtkeniu7is,  in  their  theatrical  ' 
perfoiniances;  laid'^beforv  the  eyes  of  the  people  the 


ADDISONIAN  Il'TISCELLANY.         279 

i  greeted  afflictions  which  could  befal  human  life,  and 
^'  infenfiblv  polifhed  their  tcn.pers  by  fuch  reprefenta- 
tions.  Amonc;  the  moderns,  indeed,  there  has  arofe  a 
chimerical  method  of  difpoiing  the  fortune  of  the  per- 
ions  reprcfcntcdj  according  to  what  they  call  poetical- 
jiiilice  ;  and  letting  none  be  unhappy  but  thoie  who^ 
dcftrve  it.  In  inch  cafes,  an  intelligent  Spectator,  if 
lie  is  concerned,  knows  he  ought  not  to  be  fo  ;  and  cair 
learn  nothing:  from  fuch  a  tendernefs,  but  that  he  is  a 
weak  creature,  whofe  paffipns  cannot  follow  the  dic- 
tates of  his  unfcrftanding.  It  is  very  natiu'al,  wheii 
one  is  got  into  fuch  a  way  of  thinking,'  to  recollect 
thofe  exampleaof  forrow,  which  have  made  the  Rrong- 
e!t  imprellion  upon  our  imaginations.  An  inftance 
or  two  of  fuch,  you  will  give  mc  leave  to  communi-- 
cate. 

A  young  gentleman  and  lady,  of  ancient  and  hon- 
ourable houics  in  Ccrnmall,  had  from  their  childhood 
entertained  for  each  other  a  generous  and  noble  paf- 
fiouj  which  had  been  long  oppofed  by  t>ieir  friends,  by 
rt.iifon  of  the  inequality  of  their  fortunes  *,  but  their 
con  (lancy  to  each  other,  and  obedience  to  thofe  on 
whom  tiiey  depended,  wi ought  fo  much  upon  their 
relations,  that  thefe  celebrated  lovers  were  at  length 
joined  in  marriage.  Scon  after  their  nuptials  the 
bridegroom  was  obliged  to  go  into  a  foreign  country, 
to  take  care  of  a  ccnllderable  fortune  which  was  left 
him  by  a  relation,  and  came  very  opportunely  to  im- 
prove their  moderate  circumdances.  They  received 
the  congratulations  of  all  the  country  on  this  occa-- 
Con,  and  I  remen^ber  it  was  a  comnion  fentence  hi 
every  one's  mouth, jr;.-/'^  ha^  Faithful  Lo-veis  rci.i:arded. 

Ke  took  this  agreeable  voyage,  and  fent  home  every 
pcfl  frefh  accoun'ts  of  his  fuccefs  in  his  affiiirs  abroad  ;. 
but  at  lad  (though  he  defigned  to  return  with  the  next:. 
Inp)  he  lamented  in  his  letters  that  bufinefs  would  de-  ■ 
'::aw  him  feme  time  longer  from  home,  becaufc  he 
uould  give  himfelf  the  pleafure  of  an  unexpected  arri- 
val. 

The  young  lady,  after  the  heat  of  the  day,  walked 
>^ery  evening  on  the  Tea-  ilxcre,  near  which  ilie  lived^ 


28b        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

with  a  familiar  friend,  her  hwibn.nd's  kinfvvoman,  and 
diverted  herfelf  with  what  obje61s  they  met  there,  or 
upon  difcourfe  of  the  future  methods  of  Hfe,  in  the 
happy  change  of  their  circumfLanccs.  They  floo«jf 
one  evening  on  the  fea  fhore  together,  in  perfcdt  tran- 
quility, obferving  the  fetting  oi  the  fun,  the  calm  face 
cf  the  deep,  and  the  filent  heaving  of  the  waves,  which 
gently  rolled  towards  them.,-  and  broke  at  their  feet ; 
-when  at  a  diftance  the  kinfwcman  faw  fomcthing 
float  on  the  waters  which  flie  fancied  was  a  cheit  5 
snd  with  a  fmile  told  her  ihe  faw  it  firft,  and  if  it 
came  afhcre  full  of  jewel's  fne  had  a  right  to  ir.  They 
both  fixed  their  eyes  upon  it,  and  entertained  them- 
felves  with  the  fubjeft  of  the  wreck,  the  coulin  flill 
^flertlng  her  right  ;  but  prornifing,  if  it  was  a  prize, 
to  give  her  a  very  rich  coral  for  the  child  of  which  fhc 
"was  then  big,  provided  fhe  might  be  godmother. 
Their  rrjirth  foon  abate^l,  when  they  obferved  upon 
the  nearer  approach,  that  it  was  a  human  body.  The 
young  lady,  who  had  a  heart  naturally  filled  with  pity 
and  compaffion,  made  vnany  meiaiKlioly  reflections 
on  the  occafion.  Who  knows  (faid  (lie)  but  this  man 
may  be  the  only  hope  and  heir  of  a  wealthy  houfe  ; 
the  darling  of  indulgent  parents,  who  are  now  in  im- 
pertinent mirth,  and  pleafmg  themfelves  with  the 
thoughts  of  offering  him  a  bride  they  have  got  ready 
for  him  ?  Or,  may  he  not  be  the  mailer  of  a  family, 
that  wholly  depended  upon  his  life  ?.  There  may,  for 
ought  we  know,  behalf  a  dozen  fatherlefs  children, 
and  a  tender  wife,  now  expofed  to  poverty  by  his 
death.  What  pleafure  m.lght  lie  have  promifcd  him- 
felf  in  the  different  welcomes  he  was  to  have  from  her 
and  them  ?  But  let  us  go  away,  'tis  a  dreadful  fight ! 
The  befl  office  we  can  do,  is  to  take  care  that  the 
poor  man  (whoever  he  is)  may  be  decently  buried'. 
She  turned  away,  when  a  wave  threw  the  carcafe  on 
the  fhore.  The  kinfvvoman  immediately  flirieked 
,  out,  O,  my  coufin  !  and  fell  upon  the  ground.  The 
unhappy  wife  went  to  help  her  friend.,  when  (lie  favr 
her  own  hufband  at  her  feet,  and  dropt  in  a  fwoon 
upon  the  body.     An  old  woman  who  had  been  tlic 


itDDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  e^, 

gentleman's  nurfc,  came  out  about  this  time  to  .c^ll 
the  ladies  in  to  fupper,  and  found  her  child  ^^^i^ie 
ilways  called  him)  dead  on  the  fiiore,  her  miftrefs  and 
-dnfwoman  both  lying  deadly  him.  Her  lo'ud.Umen- 
':itions,  and  calling  her  young  mailer  to;  life,..'£beiii 
awakened  tlie  friend  from  her  trance  ;  but  the  wife 
was  gone  for  ever. 

When  the  family  and  neighbourliood  got  together 
round  the  bodies,  no  one  afted  any  quellionj  but  the 
objetls  before  them  told  the  dory.' 

Incidents  of  this  nature  are  the  more  moving,  wheiji 
they  are  drawn  by  perfons  concerned  in  the  cataftrc-- 
pile,  notwithftanding  they  are  often  opprefled  beyond 
the  power  of  giving   them  in  a  diilincl  light,   except 
we  gather  their  forrow  from  their  inability  to  fpeik  it. 

I  have  too  original  letters  written  both  on  the  fame 
-day,  which  arc  to  me  cxquifite  in  their  difierent  kinds. 
Theoccafion  was  this  :  A  gentleman  who  had  courted 
a  mofl-  agreeable  young  woman,  and  won  her  heart, 
obtained  alfo  the  confent  of  Iier  father,  to  wliom  fjje 
\io  an  only  child.  The  old  man  had  a  fancy  that 
^•;:y  ihould  be  married'  in  the  fame  church  where  he 
himielf  v/as,  in  a  villa^je  in  V/eJijnoreland^  and  made 
them  fet  out  while  he  was  laid  up  with  the  gout  ^t 
Loudon.  The  bridegroom  took  only  his  man,  a^id  the 
bride  her  maid'r  They  liad  the  mofl  agreeable  jour- 
ney imaginable  tothe  place  of  marriage  \  from  whence 
the  bridegroom  writ  the  following  letter  to  his  wife's 
father. 

March  i8,  1672. 


'51 R, 


"A: 


FTER  a  very  pleafant  journey  hither,  we  are 
preparing  for  the  happy  hour  in  which  I  am  to  be  your 
fon.  1  allure  you  the  bride  carries  it,  in  the  eye  of  the 
vicar  v/ho  married  you,  much  beyond  her  mother^, 
though  he  fays,  your  open  lleeves,  pantaloons,  and 
fhoulder  knot^  made  a  much  bettci  (liew  than  \.\\q  fin- 
ical dicfs  1  am  in.  Howeycr,  i  am  contented  to  be 
ti»e  fecond  iine  man  this  village  ever  faw,  and  fhatl 


in        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

rnake  it  very  merry  before  night,  becaufe  I  fhall  wri'tc^, 
Biyfeif  from  thence.  2'^our  mojl  dutiful  Son^ 

T.  D. 
«  ITie  bride  gives  her  duty,  and  is  as  handfome  a^ 
an  angel— lam  the  happieft  man  breathing." 

The  villagers   were   affembling  about    the    churchy 
and  the  happy  couple  took  a  walk  in  a  priv?.te  garden. 
The  bridegroom's  man  knew  his  mailer  would   leave 
the  place  on    a  fudden  after  the  v/edding,  and  feeing 
hira  drawing  his  piftols  the  night  before,  rook  this  op- 
portunity to  go  into  his    chamber    and    charge  thern.. 
Upon  their  return  from  the  gavdtn  they  went  into  that 
room  j   and  after  a  little  fond  raillery  on  the  fubje6l  ef 
their  courtiliip,  the  lever  took  up  a  piftol,  which  he 
knew  he  had  unloaded  the  night  before,  and  prcfenting 
it  to  her,  faid,   with  the  molt  graceful  air,    while  (lie 
looked  pleafed  at  his  agreeable    flattery,  now,  madam, 
lepent  of  all  thofe  cruelties  you  hiive  been  guilty  of  to 
Trie  •,  coniidcr  before  you  die  how  often  you  have  made 
a  poor  wretch  freeze  under  ^'our  cafement  j  you  fliall 
die,  you   tyrant,    you  fnall  die,    with  all  thofe  inftru- 
vments  of  death  and  deftruction  about  you  ;  with  that 
enchanting  fmile,  thofe  killing  ringlets  of  your  haiv; 
<3ive.  iire,  faid  (he,  laughing. — He  did  fo,   and    flioe 
her  dead.     Who  can  fpeak  his  condinon  ?  But  he  bore 
it  fo  patiently  as  to  call  up  his  man.  The  poor  wretcll 
entered,  and  his  mafter  locked   the  door  upon  him. 
Will,  faid  he,  did    you  charge  thefe    plilols  ?  He   an?- 
fwered,  yes.     Upon  Vv^hich  he  fl-iot  him  dead  with  that 
remaining..    After  this,  amid  a  thcufand  hi-oken- fobs, 
piercing  groans,  and  diftracled  motions,  he   writ   the 
following  letter  to  the  father  of  his  dead  miflrefs  : 

SIR, 


I. 


WHO  two  hours  ago  told  you  truly  I  was  the 
happieft  man  alive,  am  now  the  moft  miferable.  Your 
daughter  lies  dead  at  my  feet,  killed  by  my  handj 
through  a  miftake  of  my  man's  charging  my  piftols  un- 
known to  me.  Him  have  I  murdered  for  it.  Such 
H  niy  wedding-day. — I  will  immediately   follow  niy 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        2S3 

wife  to  her  grave  :  But  before  I  throw  myfclf  upon 
my  fvord,  1  command  my  ciiflradlon  fo  far  as  to  ex^ 
plain  my  ftory  to  yoiu  I  fear  my  heart  will  not  keep 
tx)gether  till  I  have  ftabbed  it.  Poor  i^ood  old  man  ! — 
Remember,  he  vvlio  killed  your  daughter  died  for  it. 
In  the  article  of  death  I  g.ve  you.  my  thanks,  and  pray 
for  you,  though  I  dare  not  for  myfelV.  If  it  be  pofll- 
ble,  do  not  curfe  me." 

Tatler,  Vol.  II.  No.  82. 

It  is  prettily  obferved  by  fomebcdy  concer-iing.the 
graat  vices,  that  ihere  are  three  which  give  pleifure,  as 
cevetoufneks,  gluttony,  and  lufl  ;  one,"which  taftes  of 
nothing  but  pain,  as  envy  ;  the  rell  have  a  mixture  of 
pleafure  and  pain,  as  ang\:'r  and  pride.  But  when  a 
man  confiders  the  (late  of  his  own  mmd,  about  which 
every  member  of  the  chriflian  world  is  fuj^pofed  at 
this  time  to  be  employed,  he  will  find  that  the  bell  de- 
fence ngainfl  vice,  is  preferving  the  worthieil  part  of 
his  own  fplrit  pure  from  any  great  ofFence  aga-nil  ih 
There  is  a  niagnanimity  which  makes  us  look  upon 
Gurfelves  with  difdain,  after  we  have  been  betrayed  by 
fudden  dcfire,  opportunity  of  gain,  the  abfence  of  a 
perfon  who  exceiis  us,  the  fault  ot  a  fervant,  or  the  ill 
lortune  of  an  adverfary,  into  the  gratiiicition  of  luft, 
covetoufneiG,  envy,  rage,  or  pride;- i  when  the  more 
fublime  pan  of  our  foul  is  kept  alive,  and  we  have  not 
repeated  infirmities  till  they  are  become  vicious  habits. 
The  vice  of  covetoufnefs  is  v/hat  enters  deeped  in- 
to the  foul  o~  any.  other  ;  and  you  may  have  feen  men, 
otherwife  the  mjolt  agreeable  creatures  in  the  v/orld, 
fo  feized  uith  the  dchre.  of  being  richer,  that  they 
fliall  ilartle  at  different  things,  and  live  in  a  continu<vl 
guard  and  watch  over  themielves,  from  a  remote  fear 
of  expence.  No  pious-mm  can  be  fo  circumfpedl  in 
the  care  of  his  conlcience  aG  the  covetous  man  is  intha* 
of  his  poclvct. 

If  a  man  would  preferve  his  own  fpirit,  and  his 
natural  approbation  of  higher  and  more  worthy  pur^. 
fuits,  he  could  n-'ver  fall  into  this  littlenefs,  but  hia 
piind  would  be  ftiii  open  to  honour  and  virtue,  in  fpite 


2S4         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

of  infirmities  and  relapfes.  But  what  extremely  dif-l 
courages  me  in.  my  precautions  as  a  guardian  is,  that:| 
there  is  an  univerial  defeciion  from  the  admiration  of 
-virtue.  Riches  and  outward  fpiendour  have  taken  up  j 
the  place  of  it  ;  and  no  man  thinks  he  is  mean,  if  he .] 
is  not  poor.  But,  P.la5  !  this  defpicable  fpirit  debafes  1 
our  very  being,  and  makes  our-  pallions  take  a  new  ^ 
turn  from  their  natural  bent.  i 

It  v^'as  a  caufe  of  great  forrow  and    melancholy  to  ] 
me  fome  nights  ago  at  a  play,  to  fee  a,  croud  in    the  ;■ 
habits  of  the  gentry  oi  England,  ftupid  to  the   noblcfh  '; 
fentim.ents  we  have.     The  circumllance  happened    in 
"the  {ctVit  of  dillrefs  betw  ixt  Piercy   and  Anna  Bullen  :; 
One  of  the..centinels(\vho  flood  on  the  ftage  to  prevent 
th.e  diforders  which  the  mo  ft  unmannerly  race  of  young 
n:ien-th'at  ever  were  {<t^w  in  any  age  frequently  raife  in 
pubHc  anxuinbHes)  upon  Vkrcy?,  befeeching  to  be  heard, 
burd  into  tears  ;  upon  which  the  greatck  part  of  the 
audience  fell  into  a  loud  and  ignorant  laughter  ;  which 
others,  who  were  touched  with  the  liberal  compa/iion 
in  the  poor  fellow,  could  hardly  fupprefs  by  their  clap- 
ping.    But  the  man,  vvithout  the  leaft  confufion  or 
ihame  in  his    countenance    for  what  had    happened, 
wiped  away  the  tears,  and  was  ftiil  intent  upon   the 
play.     The  diftrefs  ftill  riling,  the  foldier  was  fo  much 
moved,  tliat  he  was  obliged  to   turn  his  face  from  the 
audience,  to  their  no  fmail  merriment.     Pz>rf>' had  the 
gallanj:ry  to  take  notice  of   this  honefl  heart  ;  and,  as 
I  am  told,  gave  him  a  crown  to  help  him  in  his  afflic- 
tion.    It  is  certain  this  poor  fellow,  in  his  humble  con- 
dition, had  fuch  a  lively  compaflion  as  a  foul  unwed- 
ded  to  the  world  ;  were  it  othcrwife,  gay  lights  and 
<lrefles,  with  appearances  of    people    of    fafl^^ion  and 
wealth,  to  which  his  fortune  could    not    be    familiar, 
-would  have  taken  up  ail  his  attention  and  admira- 
tion. 

It  is  every  tiling  that  is  praife-wortliy,  as  v/ell  as- 
pure  religion  (according  to  a  book  too  f:u:rf.:d  for  m.e  to  - 
x\\ii(j:")to^iJitihefathsriefs  and  nuidovos  -ui.  their    uffliciion, 
find  to  keep  himfelf  unjpctt id  from  the    ivorld        livery    flep 

[|li;it  '4  man  makes  beyond  rxioderate    and   icafonable 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.,       2?s 

p^-ovifioHj  is  taking  fo  much  from  the  wonhinefs  of 
his  own  fpirit ;  and  he  wko  is  entirely  fet  upont  mak- 
ing a  fortune,  is  all  that  while  undoing  the  man.  He 
niull:  grow  deaf  to  the  wretched,  citrange  himfclf 
from  th.e  agreeable,  learn  hardnefs  of  hearr,  difrcliOi 
every  thing  that  is  noble,  and  terminate  all  in  his  dcf- 
picable  fcif.  Indulgence  in  any  one  immoderate  de» 
lire  or  appetite,  engroiles  the  whole  creature,  and  his 
liie  is  facrificed  to  that  one  deHre  or  appetite  ;  but  how 
much  otherwife  is  it  with  thoTe  who  preicrve  aiiva 
in  them  foiiiething  that  adorns  their  condition,  and 

fnews  the  m:in5  whether  a  prince  or  a  b^gt^ar,  above 
I  •     r    .  fro    ' 

his  tor  tune. 

I  have  juft  now  recorded  a  foot  fcldier  for  the  polltefl 
man  in  the  ^r;V.y'?>  audience^  from  the  force  of  nature, 
untainted  with  the  (ingularity  of  an  ill-applied  educa* 
tion.  A  good  fplrit,  that  is  not  abufed,  can  add  new 
glories  to  the  higlieft  ftate  in  the  world,  as  well  as  give 
beauties  to  the  meaneft.  I  fliall  exemplify  this  by  in- 
f erring  a  prayer  of  Harry  the  fourth  of  France,  jull  be- 
fore a  battle,  in  which  he  obtained  an  intire  vitlory. 


LORD  of  hods,  who  can  fee  through  the  thick- 
efl  veil,  and  clofeil  difguife,  who  viewed  the  bottom 
of  my  heart,  and  the  deeped  defigns  of  my  enemies, 
who  had  in  thy  hands,  as  well  as  before  thine  eyes, 
all  the  events  which  eoncern  human  Ufe — If  tnoii 
knov/ed  that  my  reign  vi-ill  promote  thy  glory,  and 
the  fafcty  of  thy  people,  if  thou  knowed  that  1  have 
no  other  ambition  in  my  foul,  but  to  advance  the  hc-M- 
our  of  thy  holy  name,  and  the  good  of  this  date,  fa- 
vour, O  great  God,  the  judice  of  my  arms,  and  re- 
duce all  the  rebels  to  acknowledge  him  wljom  thy  fa- 
cred  decrees,  and  the  order  of  a  lawful  fucceihon,  have 
made  their  fovereign  :  But  if  thy  good  Providence  has 
ordered  it  otherwife,  and  thou  feeit  tb/at  I  diall  prove 
one  of  thofe  kings  whom  thou  glved  in  thine  anger, 
take  from  me,  O  merciful  God,  my  life  and  my  crown, 
make  me  this  day  a  facritice  to  thy  will,  let  my  death 
end  the  calamities  of  France,  and  let  my  blood  be  the 
lad  that  is  fpilt  in  this  quarrel." 


2Br>  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

The  king  uttered  this  generous  prayer  in  a  voice;, 
and  with  a  countenance,  that  inrpiicd  all  who  heard- 
and  beheld  him  with  hke  magna'nimity  :  Then.turfr- 
ing  to  the  iquadron,  at  the  head  of  v/hich  he  defigned 
to  charge,  "  my  fellow- ibldiers,"  faid  he,  *'  as  you  run 
my  fortune,  fo  do  I  yours  ;  your  flifety  co?iri{i:s  in-^ 
keeping  well  your  ranks;  but  if  the  heat  of  the  adion 
fhould  force  you  to  diforder,  think  of  nothing  but  ral- 
lying again  ;  if  you  lofe  the  fight  of  your  colours  and 
Itandards,  look  roui-id  for  the  white  plume  in  my  bea- 
ver •,  you  Ihall  fee  it  Vv'herever  you  are,  and  it  fliall 
lead  you  to  glory  and  to  vitlory." 

The  magnanimity  of  this  illuilrious  prince  was  fup- 
ported  by  a  firm  reliance  on  Providence,  which  infpir- 
edhim  with  a  contempt  of  life,  and  an  alTurance  of 
conquefl:.  His  geacrous  fcorn  of  royalty,  but  as  it  con- 
fided with  the  f-rvice  of  God,  and  good  of  his  people, 
is  an  infcance  that  the  mind  of  m.an,  when  it  is  well 
dilpofed,  is  always  above  its  condition,  even  though  it 
be  that  of  a  monarch. 

Guardian,  Vol.  I.  No.   19. 


DIVINE  NATURE, 

JL  was  yeflerday  about  fun- fit  walking  in  the  opeti' 
fields,  till  the  night  irifeniibiy  idl  upon  me.  I  at  lirfl 
smnfed  myfelf  \\  ith  all  the  richnefs  and  variety  of  col- 
ours, which  appeared  in  the  weflern  parts  of  Heaven  :. 
in  proportion  as  they  faded  away,  and  went  out,  feve- 
ral  liars  and  planets  appeared  one  after  another,  till 
the  whole  firmament  u-as  in  a  glow.  The  bluenefs  o£ 
the  ^iher  was  exceedingly  heightened  and  enlivened 
by  the  ieafon  of  the  year,  and  by  the  rays  of  all  thofe 
luminaries  that  palled  ttirough  it.  The  Galaxy  appear- 
ed in  its  mod  beautiful  white.  To  complete  the 
fcene,  the  full  moon  rofe  at  length  in  that  clouded' 
majefty,  wdiich  Milton  takes  notice  of,  and  opened  to 
the  eye  a  new  picture  of  nature,  which  was  more  fine- 
ly fiiaded,  and  difoofed  among  fofter  lights,  than  that 
which  the  fun  had  before  difcovered  to  us- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  587 

^  As  I  was  furveying  the  moon  walking  in  her  bvight- 
;  jicfs,  and  taking  her  progrefs  among  the  conlleila- 
tions,  a  thought  rofe  in  me  which  I  believe  very  often 
i  -perplexes  and  difturbs  men  of  ferioi^  and  contempla- 
j;  tive  natures  :  Duviti  himielf  fell  into  it  in  that  reflec- 
f  tion,  "  when  I  confider  the  Pleavens,  the  work  of  thy 
"  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  (lars  which  thou  hall  o.r- 
r  dained  ;  what  is  man  tliat  thou  art  mindful  of  him, 
;  and  the  fon  of  man  that  thcai  regnrdefl  him  1"  In  the 
I  fame  manner,  when  I  confidcred  that  irifniite  hod  of 
K  ■itars,  or,  to  fpeak  more  philofophiciily,  of  funs,  which 
f;  were  then  filming  upon  me,  with  thoie  innumerable 
:  fets  of  planets  or  worlds,  which  wtre  moving  round 
.  their  rcfpcSlive  funs  ;  when  I  flili  enlarged  the  idea, 
5  ,and  fuppofed  another  Heaven  of  funs  and  worlds  rif- 
[  -ino;  ftill  above  this  which  v^e  difcovered,  and  thefe  dill 
(enlightened  by  a  fupevior  {irm:>ment  of  luminaries, 
\  -which  are  planted  at  fo  gre.\ta  diflancej  that  they,  may 
'  appear  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  former  as  the  flars  do 
'  .to  us  ;  in  fli.-^rt,  wliile  I  puriued  this  thought,  I  could 
nor  but  rt  fle.df  on  that  litde  infi^^^dficant  figure  v/hich 
I  myfelf  bore,  amid  the  immenfuy  ot  God's  works. 

AVere  the  fun,  which  enlightens  this  part  of  the 
;creatlo:i,  v/itli  all  the  hod  or  planetary  worlds  that 
move  about  hinij  utterly  exti^iguifficd  and  anniliik.ted, 
they  would  not  be  miirev?!  more  tha'n  a  G;rain  of  fand 
wpon  the  fea-diove.  The  fpace  they  poiiefs  is  fo  ex- 
.,;ceedingly  little  in  comparifon  of  the  whole,  tint  it 
would  fcarce  make  a  ^'^«Hn  the  creation.  The  chafm 
would  be  imperceptible  to  an  eye,,  that  cou-Jd  take  iri 
-the  whole  compafs  of  nature,  ?x\v\  pafs  from  on;  end 
of  the  creation  to  the  other  j  as  it  is  poHible  therd 
may  be  fuch  a  fenfe  in  ourf-dves  hereafter,  or  in  crea- 
tures*vvhich  are  at  prefent  more  exalted  than  ourfelves. 
We  fee  many  ftars  by  the  help  of  glailes,  which  we  do 
not  difcover  with  our  naked  eyes  ;  and  the  {incr  our 
telefcopes,  the  more  diil  are  our  dilcoverics.  Huvge^ 
niiis  carries  this  thought  fo  far,  th.it  he  docs  not  think 
it  impoilible  tliere  may  be  dars  whofe  light  has  not  yet 
travelled  down  to  us,  fincc  their  fird  creation.  Thcie 
is  noqiKdion  but  the  univeri^  has  certain  bounds  fct 


?,88         ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

to  it ;  but  when  we  confider  that  it  is  the  work  of  in- 
finite power,  prompted  by  infinite  goodnefs,  with  an 
infinite  fpace  to  exert  itfelf  in,  how  can  our  imagina- 
tion fct  any  bounds  to  it  ? 

To  return,  ther.  fore,  to^  my  fird  thought,  I  could 
not  but  look  upon  myfelf  with  fecret  horror,  as  a  be- 
ing that  w^s  not  worth  the  fmalleil  regard  of  one  who 
had  fo  great  a  work  under  his  care  and  fuperintenden- 
cy.  I  was  afraid  of  being  overlooked  amid  the  im- 
menfity  of  nature,  and  loft  among  that  infinite  variety 
of  creatures,  which  in  all  probability,  fwarm  through 
all  thefe  iinmeafurable  regions  of  matter. 

In  order  to  recover  myfelf  from  this  mortifying 
thought,  I  confidered  that  it  took  its  rife  from  tnofe 
fiarrow  conceptions,  which  v/e  are  apt  to  entertain  of 
the  divine  nature.  'We  curfelves  cannot  attend  to  ma-  | 
ny  different  obje6ls  at  the  fame  time.  If  we  are  care-  ] 
ful  to  infpec\  lome  things,  we  ]v.uii  of  courfe  negle£k 
others.  This  imperfe6tion,  which  wt  obferve  in  our- 
felves,  is  an  imperfeclion  that  cleaves  in  fome  degree 
to  creaturesof  the  higheft  capacities,  as  they  are  crea- 
tures, tliat  is,  beings  of  finite  and  limited  natures.  The 
prefence  of  every  cre;\tcd  brinix  is  confined  to  a  cer- 
tain meafure  of  ipace,  and  confequent'ly  his  obferva- 
tion  is  (tinted  to  a  ccrtnii'i  number  of  objects.  The 
fphere  in  which  we  move,  and  ac>,  and  undeifland, 
is  of  a  wider  circumference  to  one  creature  than  anoth- 
er, according  as  we  rife  one  above  another  in  the  fcale 
of  exiftence.  -  But  the  wided  of  thefe  our  fpheres  has 
its  'circumference.  When  therefore  we  reflect  on  the 
divine  nature,  we  are  fo  ufed  and  accultomed  to  this 
imperfe6tion  in  ourfelves,  that  we  cannot  forbear  in 
fome  meafure  afcribing  it  to  him  in  whom  there  is  no 
fhadow  of  imperfe£tion.  Our  reafon  indeed  ^ures 
us  that  his  attributes  are  infinite,  but  the  poornefs  of 
our  conceptions  is  fucb,  that  it  cannot  forbear  fettihg 
bounds  to  evry  thing  it  contemplates,  till  our  reafon 
comes  again  to  our  fuccour,  and  throws  down  all  thoie 
little  prejudices  which  rife  in  us  unawares,  and  ar-e 
natural  to  th^  mind  of  man. 


ADDISONIAN    MISCELLANY.         t^f 

AVe  (hall  there  fore  utterly  ejctinguilh  this  mdancho- 
ly..tKaiight,  of  our  being  overlooked  by  our  Maker  in 
tiie  muUiplicity  of  his  works,  and  the  infinity  of  thofc 
•bjeds  among  which  he  fcems  to  be  inceflantly  em- 
ployed, if  we  confider,  in  the  firft  place,  that  he  is 
o.m'niprdent  •,  and  in  the  fecond,  that  he  is  omni- 
feie  nt. 

If  v/e  confider  him  in  his  omniprefence,  his  Being 
pafiis  through,  actuates  and  fupports  the  whole  frame 
of  nature.  His  creation,  and  every  part  of  it,  is  full 
of  him.  There  is  nothing  he  has  made,  that  is  either 
•fo  diiUnt,  ki  little,  or  fo  incoijfiderable,  which  he  does 
not  etllintially  inhabit.  Ilis  fubftance  is  within  the 
fubllance  of  every  being,  whether  material,  or  imma- 
terial, and  as  intimately  prefcnt  to  it,  as  that  Being  is 
to  itfelf.  It  would  be  'an  imperfcdlion  in  him,  were 
he  able  to  rcniove  out  of  oneplajj  into  another,  or 
tc  withdraw  himfelf  from  any  thing  he  has  created, 
or  from  any  part  of  that  fpacc  \Miich  is  diffufed  an«l 
fpread  abroad  to  infinity.  In  fliort,  to  fpeak  of  him 
in  the  language  of  the  old  philofopher,  he  is  a  Being 
v/hofe  centre  is  every  whiCre,  and  his  circumference  no 
where. 

In  the  fecond  place,  he  is  omniicient  as  well  as  om- 
nlprefent.  His  omnifcience  indeed  neceflarily  and 
naturally  flows  from  his  omniprefence  ;  he  cannot  but 
fee  cpnfcious  of  every  motion  that  arifeb  in  the  whole 
material  world,  which  he  thus  eilentially  pervades,  and 
of»,eyery  thought  that  is  ftirring  in  the  intelle&ual 
world,  to  every  part  of  which  he  is  thus  intimately 
united.  ^Several  moralifts  have  confidered  the  crea- 
tion as*  the  Temple  of  God,  which  he  has  built  with 
his  own  hands,  and  which  is  filkd  with  his  prefence. 
Others  have  confidered  infinite  fpace  as  the  recepta- 
cle, or  rather  the  habitation  of  the  Almighty  :  But  the 
»oblefl  and  moil  exalted  way  of  confidering  this  in- 
finite fpace  is  that  of  Sir  J/aac  Newtoty  who  calls  it  the 
Senforium  of  the  godhead.  Brutes  and  men  have  their 
SeHforioUi  or  little  Sen/onums,  by  which  they  apprehend 
tilie  prefence,  and  perceive  the  adlioiis  of  a  few  objc6h; 
that  lie  contigious  !o.  them.  Theirkqowledgeand  ©b* 


2l9«  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY, 

fcrvatlon  turn  within  a  very  narrow  circle.     But  ss 

God  Almighty  cannot  but  perctive  and  know  every 
thing  in  which  he  refides,  infinite  fpace  gives  room  to 
infinite  knowledge,  and  is,  as  it  were,  an  organ  to  onv- 
nifcience. 
Were  the  foul  fepatated  from  the  body,  and  with  one 
glance  of  thought  to  ftart  beyond  the  bounds  of 
the  creation  •,  (hould  it  for  millions  of  years  continue 
its  progrefs  through  infinite 'fpace  with  the  fame  ac- 
tivity, it  would  ftill  find  itfelf  within  the  embrace  of  it's 
Creator,  and  encompafl'ed  round  with  the  immenCty 
of  the 'godhead.  While  we  are  in  the  body,  he  is  net 
!efs  prefent  with  us,  becaufe  he  is  concealed  from  us. 
*<  O  that  I  knew  where  1  might  find  him  !  fays  Job. 
Behold  I  go  forward,  but  he  is  not  there  ;  and'  back- 
ward, but  I  cannot  perceive  him  :  On  the  left  hand, 
where  he  does  work,  but  I  cannot  behold  him  :  He 
hideth  himfclf  on  the  right  hand  that  I  cannot  fee 
him."  In  ftiort,  reafon  as  well  as  revehtion  alTure  us, 
that  he  cannot  be  abfent  from  us,  notwithftanding  he 
is  undifcovered  by  us. 

In  this  confideration  of  the  Almighty's  omnipre- 
fcnce  and  omnifcience,  every  uncomfortable  thought 
vaniflies.  He  cannot  but  regard  every  thing  that  has 
-being,  efpecially  fuch  of  his  creatures  who  fear  they 
are  not  regarded  by  him.  He  is  privy  to  all  their 
thoughts,  and  to  that  anxiety  of  heart  in  particular, 
^hich  is  ;ipt  to  trouble  them  on  this  occafion  ;  for,  as 
it  is  impofhble  he  fhould  overlook  any  of  his  creatures, 
fo  we  may  be  confident,  that  he  regards,  with  an  eye 
of  mercy,  thofe  who  endeavour  to  recommend  them- 
fclves  to  his  notice,  and  in  an  unfeigned  humility  of 
heart  think  themfelves  unworthy  that  he  (liould  be 
mindful  of  them. 

Spectator,  Vol.  VIIL  No.  ^6;» 

DRESS. 

Mr.  Spectator, 

"   Jj^  HERE  is  an  evil  under  the  fun  which  has  not 
-  yet  come  withia  your  fpeculgtioii»  Ind  is,  the  cenfuref 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        291^ 

difefteem,  and  contempt  which  fomc  young  fellows 
meet  with  from  particular  perfons,  for  the  reafonable 
methods  they  take  to  avoid  them  in  general.  This  is 
by  appearing  in  a  better  thrcfs,  than  may  feem  to  a  re- 
lation regularly  confident  wiih  a  fmall  fortune  ;  and 
therefore  may  occafion  a  judgment  of  a  fuitable  ex- 
travagance in  other  particulars  :  But  the  difadvantage 
with  which  the  man  of  narrow  circumftances  aftsand 
fpeaks,  is  fo  feelingly  fet  forth  in  a  little  book  called 
the  Chrijlian  Herc^^  \\\M  the  appearing  to  be  otherwife^ 
is  not  only  pardonable,  but  neceffary.  Every  one 
knows  the  hurry  of  couclufions  that  are  made  in  con- 
tempt of  a  perfon  who  appears  to  be  calamitous,  which 
makes  it  very  excufable  to  prepare  one's  felf  for  the 
company  of  thofe  who  are  of  a  fuperior  quality  and  for- 
tune, by  appearing  to  be  in  a  better  condition  than 
one  is,  fo  far  as  fuch  appearance  fhall  not  make  us  re- 
ally of  worfe, 

"  It  is  a  juftice  due  to  the  character  of  one  who  fuf- 
fers  hard  reflections  from  any  particular  perfon  upon 
this  account,  that  fuch  perfons  would  inquire  into  his 
raanner  of  fpending  his  time  •,  of  which,  though  no 
further  infornration  can  be  had  than  that  he  remains 
fo  many  hours  in  his  chamber,  yet  if  this  is  cleared,  to 
imagine  that  a  reafonable  creature,  wrung  with  a  nar- 
row" fortune,  does  not  make  the  bed  ufe  of  this  retire- 
ment, would  be  a  conclufion  extremely  uncharitable. 
From  what  has,  or  will  be  faid,  I  hope  no  confequence 
can  be  extori.ed,  implying,  that  I  would  have  any 
young  fellov;  fpend  more  time  than  the  common  Icil- 
ure  v/hich  his  Ihuiies  require,  or  more  money  than  his 
fortune  or  allowance  may  admit  of,  in  the  purfuit  of 
an  acquaintance  with  his  betters  \  for  as  to  his  time, 
the  grofs  of  that  ought  to  be  facred  to  more  fubftan- 
tial  acquifitions  i  for  each  irrevocable  moment  of 
which,  he  ought  •  to  believe  he  (lands  religioufly  ac- 
countable. And  afe  to  his  drcfs,  I  fliall  engage  myfelf 
no  farther  than  in  the  modefl  defence  of  twoplain  fuits 
a  year  :  For  being  pcrfeclly  fitisfied  in  Eutrafulus^s^ 
contrivance  of  making  a  Mohoch  of  a  man,  by  prefcnt- 
h)g,  hiiii-v.ith  laced  and  embroidered  fuits,  1  would  )af^ 


2gi  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

BO  means  be  thought  to  controvert  the  conceit,  by  In- 
Cnuating  the  advantages  of  foppery.  It  is  an  aflertioii 
■which  admits  of  much  proof,  that  a  ftranger  of  toler- 
able fenfe,  drefled  like  a  gentleman,  will  be  better"  re- 
ceived by  thofe  of  quality  above  him,  than  one  of  mucli 
better  parts,  whofe  drefs  is  regulated  by  the  rigid  no- 
tions of  frugality.  A  man  s  appearance  falls  within 
the  cenfure  of  every  one  who  fees  him  ;  his  parts  and 
learning  very  few  are  judges  of  *,  and  even  upon  thefc 
few,  they  cannot  at  firit  be  well  intruded  5  for  policy 
and  good-breeding  will  counfi^l  him  to  be  referved 
among  ftrangers,  and  to  fuppo^rt  himfelf  only  by  the 
iommoH  fpirit  -of  converfadon.  Indeed  among  the 
injudicious,  the  words  delicacy,  idiom,  fine  images, 
tlru61:ure  of  periods,  genius,  fiire,  and  the  reft  made  ufe 
of  with  a  frugal  and  comely  gravity,  will  maintain  the 
iigure  of  immenfe  reading^  and  the  depth  of  criticifm. 
"  All  gentlemen  of  fortune  (at  leaft  the  young  and 
middle  aged)  are  apt  to  pride  themfelves  a  little  too 
much  upon  their  drefs,  and  cohfequently  to  value  oth- 
ers in  fome  meafure  upon  the  fame  confideration. 
"With  what  confufion  is  a  man  of  figure  obliGjed  to  re- 
turn the  civilities  of  the  hat  to  a  perlon*  whole  air  and 
attire  hardly  intitle  him  to  it  ?  For  whom  neverthelefs 
the  other  has.  a  particular  eilcem,  though  he  is  afliam- 
ed  to  have  it  challenged  in  fo  public  a  manner.  It 
mufl  be  allowed,  that  any  young  fellow  who  affi;£ls  to 
drefs  and  appear  genteely,  might  with  artificial  man- 
agement fave  ten  pounds  a  year  ;  as  inftead  of  fine 
Holland  he  might  mourn  in  fackcloth,  and  in  other 
particulars  be  proportionably  fhabby :  But  of  what 
lervice  fhould  this  fum  be  to  avert  any  misfortune,- 
whilft  it  would  leave  him  deferted  by  the  few  good 
acquaintance  he  has,  and  prevent  his  gaining- any  oth- 
er ?  As  the  appearance  of  an  eafy  fortune  is  necelTa- 
ry  towards  making  one,  I  don't  know  but  it  might  be 
of  advantage  fometimes  to  throw  into  one's  dilcourfe 
certain  exclamations  about  bank-Jfock^-diXi^  to  fliew  a  mar- 
vellous furprife  upon  its  fall,  as  well  as  the  moft  aff.c- 
ted  triumph  upon  its  rife.  The  veneration  md  ref- 
pe(^  which  the  prai^ice  ,of  a^i  ages  has   preferved  t© 


/i^D'ISCNlAN  MISCELLANY.         i^ 

appearances,  without  doubt  fuggeftcd  to  our  tradef- 
men  that  wife  and  politic  cuftom,  to  apply  and  recom- 
mend (henifelves  to  the  public  by  all  thofe  decorations 
upon  their  fign-pofts  and  houfes,  which  the  mod  emi- 
lient  hands  in  the  neighbourhood  can  lurnifh  them 
with.  What  can  be  more  aitra6li\'c  toa  man  of  let- 
ters, than  that  iminenfe  erudition  of  all  ages  and  lan- 
guages, which  a  {kilful  bookfeiler,  in  conjunction  with 
a  painter,  iliali  image  upon  his  column  and  the  extrem- 
ities of  his  /hop  ?  'fhe  fame  fpirit  of  maintaining  a 
handfome.  appearance  reigns  among  the  grave  andfolid 
rpprentiges  of  the  law  (here  I  could  be  particularly- 
dull  in  proving  the  word  apprentice  to  be  fignificant  of 
a  b.^.ri liter)  and  you  may  ealily  diltinguifhwho  hasmofl 
lately  made  his  pretenfions  to  bufmefs,  by  the  whiteft 
and  moft  ornamental  frame  of  his  window  :  If  indeed 
the  chamber  is  a  ground  room,  and  has  rails  before  it, 
the  finery  is  of  neccfl'ity  more  ex^><ided,  and  the  pomp 
of  hufinefs  better  maintained.  And  what  can  be  a 
r;vca*er  indication  of  the  dignity  ^f  drefs,  than  that 
buidcnfome  finery,  which  is  the  regular  habit  of  our 
judges,  nobles,  and  bifhops,  with  which  upon  certain 
<i;iys  we  fee  them  incumbered  ?  And  though  it  may 
be  faid,  this  is  awful,  and  neceiiary  for  the  dignltv  of 
tl>e  Itatc,  yet  the  wifelt  of  them  have  been  remarkable 
before  they  arrived  at  their  prefent  ftations,  for  being 
tyen  'well  dreffed  pcrfons.  As  to  my  own  part,  I  am  near 
thirty  }  and  fince  I  left  fchool  have  not  been  idle, 
which  is  a  modern  phrafe  for  having  ftudied  hard.  I 
brought  oil  a  clean  fyftem  of  moral  phiiofophy,  and  a 
tolerable  jargon  of  metaphyficks  from  the  univerfity  ; 
fiAce  that,  I  have  been  engaged  in  the  clearing-part  of 
the  perplexed  ftile  and  matter  of  the  law,  which  fo  he- 
reditarily dcfcends  to  all  its  profeflbrs.  To  all  which 
fevere  fludies  I  have  thrown  in,  at  proper  interims^ 
the  pretty  learning  of  the  claflics.  •  Notwithftanding 
which,  I  am  what  Shake/pear  calls,  ajellow  of  mo  mark  or 
kkelihood;  which  makes  me  underftand  the  more  fully, 
that  ^mcQ  the  regular  methods  of  making  friends  and 
a  fortune,  by  the  mere  force  of  a  profeflion,  is  fo  very 

'\.:^wd&duac€fUin;a  man  fliouldtake  all  r^afo&^lc 


194        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

opportunities,  by  enlarging  a  good  acquaintance,  to 
court  that  time  and  chance  which  is  faid  to  happen  t« 
every  man." 

Spectator,  Vol.  V,  No.  360.  T. 


DRINKING. 

j,^  O  vices  are  fo  incurable  as  thofe  whicfr-men  arc 
apt  to  glory  in.  One  would  wonder  how  diunken- 
nefs  (hould  have  the  good  luck  to  be  of  this  number. 
Anarcharfii^  being  invited  to  a  match  of  dnnking  at 
Corinthy  demanded  the  prize  very  humouroufly,  becauft 
he  vvas  drunk  before  any  of  the  reft  of  the  company  ; 
for,  fays  he,  when  we  run  a  race,  he  who  arriv^esat 
the  goal  firft  is  intitled  to  the  reward  :  On  the  con- 
trary, in  this  thirftv  generation,  the  honour  falls  upon 
him  who  carries  oiT«he  greatcft  quantity  of  liquor,  and 
knocks  down  the  reft  of  the  company.  I  was  thfe 
©ther  day  with  hdleft  Will  Funnel  the  Wcji'$ax9>ty  who 
"was  reckoning  up  how  much  liquor  had  palled  through  •. 
him  in  the  lait  twenty  years  of  his  life,  which  acCordV 
ing  to  his  computation,  amounted  to  twenty-three 
hogiheads  of  Oiiiiober,  four  tons  of  port,  half  a  kilder- 
kin of  fmall  beer,  nineteen  barrels  of  cyder,  and  three 
glalTes  of  champagne  :  Befides  which,  he  had  aflifted 
at  four  hundred  bowls  of  punch,  not  to  mention  fips^, 
drams,  and  whets  without  number.  I  queilicn  not 
but  every  reader's  memory  will  fuggeft  to  him  feve- 
ral  ambitious  young  men,  who  are  as  vain  in  this  par- 
ticular as  Will  Funnel^  and  can  boaftof  as  glorious  ex- . 
ploits. 

Our  modern  philofophers  ohferve,  that  there  is  a 
general  decay  of  moifture  in  the  globe  of  the  earth.  . 
This  they  chiefly  afcribe  to  the  growth'  of  vegetables, 
which  incorporate  into  their  own  fubftance  many  flit- 
id  bodies  that  never  return  again  to  their  former  na- 
ture :  But  with  fubmiflion,  they  ought  to  throVinto 
their  account  thofe  innumerable  rational  beings  which 
letch  their  nouriftiment  chiefly  out  of  liquids  -,  efpe- 
m^l  wbeii  wc  cciiiid^r  ^^\  i^enj  compared  wi&- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  2^$ 

their  fellow  creatures,  dvlnk  much  more  than   comes 
to  their  fhare. 

But  however  highly  this  tribe  of  people  may  think 
of  themfclves,  a  drunken  man  is  a  greater  monfter 
than  arf^  that  is  to  be  found  among  ail  the  creatures 
which  God  has  made  ;  as  indeed  there  is-  no  charao 
t^  \vhich  appears  more  defpicable  and  deform-ed,  in 
ine  eyes  of  all  reafonable  perfons^  tlian  that  5f  a  drunk- 
ard. Bonofusy  one  of  our  own  countrymen,  who  was 
addl(Sled  to  this  vice,  having  let  up  for  a  fliare  in  the 
i?i7«a«  Empire,  and  bemgcLfeatcfd  in  a  great  batti?, . 
hanged  himfelf.  When  he  was  feen  by  the  army  in 
this  melancholy  fituation,  notwithflanding  lie  had  be- 
haved liimfoif  very  bravely,  the  common  jell  was,  that  - 
the  thing  they  fa w  hanging  upon  the  tree  before  them 
was  !10l  a  man  but  a  buttle. 

This  vice  has  very  fatal  efFc<fls  on  the  mind,  the 
body,  and  fortune  of  the  perfon  who  is  devoted  to  it. 

In  regard  to  the  miiui>  it  iiril  of  all  difcovers  every 
flaw  in  it.  The  fober  man,- by  tlie  ilrength  of  rea- 
fon,  may  keep  under  and  fubdue  every  vice  or  folly  to 
which  he  is  moll  iujlined  ;  but  wine  make*  every  la- 
tent feed  fprout  up  in  the  foul,  and  Ihew  itfclf ;  it 
gives  fury  to  the  paflions,  and  force  to  thofe  obiec^is 
which  are  apt  to  produce  tlicm.  When-  a  young  fel- 
low complained  to  an  old  philofopher  that  his  wffe 
was  not  handforae  :  Put  Ids  water  in  your  winc^ 
fa)'S  the  philofopher,  and  you'll  quickly  make  her  fo« 
Wine  heightens  indifference  into  love,  love  intojcal- 
oufy,  and  jealoufy  into  madnefs.  It  often  tarns  the 
good-natured  man  into  an  ideot,  arrd  the  choleric  in- 
to an  afiallin.  It  gives  bitteinefs  to  rcfent-vient,  it 
makes  vanity  infupportable,  and  difplays  every  little 
fpot  of  the  foul  in  its  utmoft  deformity. 

Nor  does  this  vice  only  betray  the  hidden  faults  of 
a  man,  and  (hew  them  in  the  moft  odious- colours, 
but  often  occafions  faulty  to  whic^h  he  is  not  naturally 
fubje(3:.  There  is  mere  of  turn  than  of  truth  iiTa 
faying  of  5'*,'7/ffl,  that  drunkennefs  does  not  produce, 
but  difcovers  faults.  Common  experience  teaches 
•lilt  c«nu'»rjf\    Wv^t  tkows  a  man  om  of  himfe^ 


7g6        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

and  infufes  qualities  into  the  mind,  which  (he  is  c 
llranger  to  in  her  fober  moments.  The  perfon  you 
converfe  with  after  the  third  bottle,  is  not  the  fame 
man  who  at  firlt  fat  down  at  the  table  with  you.  Up- 
on this  maxim  is  founded  one  of  the  prettied  fayings 
I  ever  met  with,  wliich  is  infcribed  to  FuUius  Sjrus, 
^i  ebr'tum  ludificat  la:dit  cibfentem  j  he  who  jeils  upon  a 
man  that^s  drunk,  injures  the  abfent. 

Thus  does  drunkennefs  a£l  in  dire£b  contradiction 
toreafon,  whcfe  bufinefs  it  is   to    clear   the  mind  of   , 
every   vice   wliich    has  crept  into  it,   and  to  guard  it  . ' 
?gainil  all  the  approaches  of  any    that  endeavour    to    . 
iTiake  its  entrance.     But  befides  -thefe  ill  efte^ls  which 
this  vice  produces  in  the  perfon  who  isadlually  under 
its  dominion,  it  has  ?.lfo  a  bad  influence   on  the  mind  • 
eyen  in  its  iober  moments,   as  it  infenfibiy  weakens 
the  underllanding,  impaii*s  the  memory,  and   makes 
thofe  faults  habitual  v.'hich  are  produced  by  frequent  - 
cxcefics. 

Specta  rCR,  Vol.  VIII..N0.  $^9^ 

A  method  of  fpending   one's   time  agreeably,  is  a  ■ 
thing  fo  little  ftudied,  that   the  common   amuiement' - 
of  our  young  gentlemen  (efpecially  of  fuch  as  are  at  a 
diftance  from  thofc  of  the  firft  breeding)  is    drinking.  - 
This  way  of  entertainment  has  cuftom  on  its  fide  ;  but^ 
as  much  as  it  has  prevailed,  I  believe  there  have  been 
very  few*  companies  that  have  been  guiity  of  excefs 
this  way,  wber^   there  have  not  happened  more  acci- 
dents which  make  againft,  than  for  the  continuance  of 
it.     It   is   very    common  that  evenrsarife  from  a  de=« 
bauch,  vi'hich  are  fatal,   and  always  fuch   as  are  difa- 
greeable.     With  ail  a  man's   reafon  and  good  fcnfe 
about  him,  his  tongue  is  apt  to  utter   things  out   of 
mere  gaiety  of  heart    which    may  difpleafe  his  beft 
friends.     Who  then  would  truft  himfelf  to  the  pow- 
er of  wine,  without  faying  more  agaiiiit  it,   than  th^t 
it  raiies  the  imagination,  and  deprelTes  the  judgment  ?  - 
Were  there  only  this  finglc  confideration,  that  we  are 
fefs  mailers  of  ourfelvcs  when  we   drink   in  the  leaft "^ 

yroportioii  above  ihe  eiitigencks  ^l  toil  ^  I  i^^y>  w«lf'- 


^  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        297 

'tli'S  all  that  could  be  cbjefted,  it  were  fufiicient  te 
make  us  abhcr  this  vice.  But  we  may  go  on  to  fay^ 
that  as  he  who  drinks  but  a  little  is  not  maftcr  ofhim- 
felf,  fo  he  who  drinks  much  is  a  (lave  to  himfelf.  As 
for  niy  part,  I  ever  efteemed  a  drunkard  of  all  vicious 
perfons  the  moil  vicious  :  For  if  our  ail  ions  are  10 
be  weighed,  and  confidcred  according  to  the  inten- 
tion o^  them,  what  can  we  think  of  him  Avho  puts 
Rimfelf  into  a  circumilance  whc-rein  he  can  have  no 
ii'.tention  at  all,  but  incapaci'itcs  himfelf  for  the  du- 
ties and  oihces  of  life,  by  <  fufpenfjon  of  all  his  facul- 
ties ?  If  a  man  confiders  that  he  cannot  under  the  op- 
prellion  of  drink  be  a  friend,  a  gentlem.m,  a  mailer, 
or  a  fubje<£I ;  that  he  h-is  fo  long  baniflied  him- 
felf  from  all  that  is  dt  ar,  and  given  up  all  that  is 
facred  to  him,  he  would  even  then  think  of  a  debauch 
with  horror  :  But  when  he  looks  flill  farther  and 
acknowledges,  that  he  is  not  only  expelled  out  of  all 
the  relations  of  life,  but  alfo  liable  to  offend  againft 
them  all,  what  words  can  exprefs  the  terror  and  de- 
teftation  he  would  have  of  fuch  a  condition  ?  And 
yet  he  ow^s  all  this  of  himfelf  who  fays  he  was  drunk 
lall:  night. 

As  I  have  all  along  peviiiled  in  it,  that  all  the  vicious 
in  general  are  in  a  ilate  of  death,  fo  I  think  I  m.ay  add 
to  the  non-exiilence  of  drunkards,  that  they  died  by 
their  own  hands.  He  is  certainly  as  guilty  of  fuicide 
who  pcriflies  by  a  How,  as  he  w^ho  is  difpatched  by  an 
immediate  poifon.  In  my  1  ift  lucubration  I  propof- 
ed  the  general  ufe  of  water-gruel,  and  hinted  that  it 
might  not  be  amiis  at  this  very  feafon  :  But  as  there 
are  fome,  whofe  cafes,  in  regard  to  their  families,  will 
not  admit  of  delay,  I  have  ufed  my  intereil  in  feveral 
wards  of  the  city,  that  the  wholefome  reftorative 
above-mentioned,  may  be  given  in  tavern-kitchens  to 
all  the  mornings  draught  men  within  the  walls  when 
they  call  for  wine  before  npon.  For  a  further  re- 
ftraint  and  mark  upon  fuch  perfons,  I  have  given  or- 
ders, that  in  all  the  ofilces  where  policies  are  drawn 
upon  lives,  fliall  be  added  to  tlie  article  which  prohib- 
its that  the  nomiaee  fhould  crofs  the  fea,  thcfe  words. 


298        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  f 

Prevised  aljo.  Thai  the  above  mentioned  A   B.  pall  not  drinf^. 
before  dinner  during  the  term  fnemianed  in  this  indenture, 

I  am  not  without  hopes  but  by  this  methotl  I  {hall 
bring  fome  unfizeable  friends  of  mine  into  (hape,  and: 
breadth,  as  well  as  others  who  are   languid    and  con-z 
fumptive,  into  heahh  snd  vigour.'      Moft  of  the  felf-, 
murderers  whom  I  yet  hinted  at,  ?.re  fuch  as  preferve 
a  certain  regularity  in  taking  their  poifon,  and  make  it;, 
mix  pretty  wtl!  with  their  food  :  But   the  mod  con-^ 
fpicuous  of  thofe  who  deftroy  themfelves,  are  fuch  as- 
in  their  youth  fall  into  this  fort   of  debauchery,  and 
Contra£t  a  certain  uneafmefs  of  fpirit,  which  is  not  to 
be  diverted  but  by  tippling   as  often  as  they  can  fall 
into  company  in  the  day,  and   conclude  witn   dov/n-  - 
right  drunkennefs  at  night.     Thefe  gentlemen   ne-ver 
know  the  fatisfadion  of  youth,   but  fkip  the  years  of 
manhood,  and  are  decrepit  foon  after  they  are  of  age. 
I  was  godfather  to   one  of  thefe  old  fellows.       He  is 
now  three  and  thirty,  which  is  the  grand   climaderic 
of  a  youKg  drunkard.  1  went  to  vifit  the  crazy  wretch 
this  morning,  with  no  other  purpofe  but  to  rally  him. 
under  the  pain  and  uneafmefs  of  being  fcb>"r. 

But  as  our  faults  are  double  when  they  aiFecl  other* 
befides  ourfelves,  fo  this  \\cz  is  ilill  more  odious  in  a 
married  than  a  fnigle  man..  He  v»'ho  is  the  hufband  of 
3  woman  of  honour,  and  comes  home  overloaded  with  . 
wine,  is  dill  more  contemptible  in  proportion  to  the 
regard  we  have  to  the  unhappy  conicrt  of  his  beaf- 
tialily.  The  imagination  cannot  fhape  to  itfeif  any 
thing  more  monfhrous  and  unnatural  than  the  fami- 
liarities betv/een  drunkennefs  and  chaflity.  The 
wretched  JJineay  who  is  the  perfe6"tion  of  beauty  and 
innocence,  has  long  been  thus  condemned  for  life. 
The  romantic  tales  of  virgins  devoted  to  the  jaws  of 
monfters,  have  nothing  in  them  fo  terrible  as  the  gift  . 
of  JJlr^a  to  that  bacchanal. 

The  refiedion  of  fuch  a  match  as  fpotkfs  innocence 
with  abandoned  lewdnefs,is  what  puts  this  vice  in  the 
worfi:  figure  it  can  bear  with  regard  to  others  ;  but 
when  it  is  loo^ced  upon  with  refpecl  only  to  the  drunk- 
ard himfelf,  it  has  deformities  enough  to  make  it  di^- 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.        jyg 

jplgrecable,  which  may  be  fummed  up  in  a  word,  by  al- 
lowing, that  he  who  rerig.ns  his  reaTon,  is  actually 
guilty  of  all  that  he  is  liable  to  from  the  want  of  rea- 
^  n.  Tatler,  Vol.  IV.  No.  241. 


..Ali 


DUELLING. 


L  p;allantry  and    fafliion,  one  would   imagine, 
thouid  riic  out  of  the  religion  and  laws  of  that  nation 
wherein  they  prevail  ;  but  alas  !  in  this  kingdom,  gay 
>chara£lers,  and  thofe  which  lead  in   the  pleafure  and 
inclinations  of  the  faihioiiable  world,  are  luch  as  are 
'readied  to  praOice  crimes  the  inoil  abhorrent  to  na- 
•  ture,  and  contradictory  to  our  faith.      A  chrn'llan  and 
a  gentleman  are  made  inconfiilent  appellations   of  the 
ifame  perfon  ;  you  are  not    to   cxped:  eternal  life,  if 
vyou  do  not  forgive  injuries,  and  your  mortal  life  is  un- 
comfortable, if  you  are  not  ready  to  commit    a  mur- 
.  der,  in  refentment  for  an  allVont :  For  good    fenfc  as 
.well  as  religion  h  (o  utterly  banifhed  the  world,  that 
men  glory  in  their  very  paflions,   and   purfue   trifles 
with  the  utmofl  vengeance  •,  fo  little  do  they  know  that 
•to  forgive  is  the  mod  arduous  pitch  to  which  human  na- 
.  ture  can  arrive  :  A  coward  has  often  fought,  a  coward 
r has  often  conquered,  but  a    coward    never    forgave. 
The  power  of  doing  thai,  flows  from  a  ftrength  of  foul 
confcious  of  its  own  force  ;  wlience  it  draws  a    cer- 
tain fa  fety,  which  hs  erxmy   is  not   of  confideration 
iiough  to  interrupt ;  for  'tis  peculiar  in  the  make  of 
-.  brave  man  to  have  his  friends   feem   much    above 
him,  his  enemies  much  below  him. 

Yet  though  the  negledl  of  our  enemies  may,  foln- 
tenle  a  forgivenefs  as  the  love  of  them  is  not  to  be  in 
the  lead  accounted  for  by  the  force  of  conflitution, 
but  is  a  more  fpiritual  and  refined  moral  introduced 
by  him  who  died  for  thofe  that  perfecuted  him  ;  yet 
very  juftly  delivered  to  us,  when  we  confider  ourfelves 
offenders,  and  to  be  forgiven  on  the  reafonable  terms 
of  forgiving ;  for  who  can  afk  what  he  will  not  be- 
ftoMT  ?  Efpecialiy  wiien  that  gift  is   attended  with   a 


3-«©        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

redemption  from  the  cruelleft  flavery  to  the  moll  ad^i  J 
ceptable  freedom  :  For  when  the  mind  is  in  ccyntenv-3 
plation  of  revenge,  all  its  thoughts  mud  furcly  be  tor-l 
tured  with  the  alternate  pangs  of  rancour,  envy,  ha- jfi| 
tred,  and  indignation  ;  and  they  who  profefs  a   fweet '  * 
in  the  enjoyment  of  it,  certainly  never  feh  the  confum- 
mate  blils  of  reconcihation  :  At/uch    an  inftawt  the  ' 
falfe  ideas  we  received,  unravel  ;  and  the  fliynefs,  the;>. 
diftrufl,  the  fecret  fcorns,  and  all  the  .baiii   fatisfac-I 
tions  men  had  in  each  others  faults  and  .misfortunes,! 
are  difpelled,  and  their   fouls  appear  in  tneir  native] 
whitenefs,  without  the  Jeaft  llieak  of  that   malice  or? 
diftafte  wliich  fullied  them  :   And  perhaps  thofe  very 
a6lions,  which  (whea;*ve  looked  at  them  in  the  oblique 
glance  v/ith  which  hatred  dotli  always  fee  things)  were 
horrid  and  odious  ;   when  obferved  with  honeft    and 
open  eyes,  are  beauteous  and  ornamentah 

But  if  men  are  averfe.to  us  in  the  moll  violent  dc-  ; 
gree,  and  we  can  never  bring  them  to  an  amicable 
temper,  then  indeed  we  are  to  exert  an  obflinate  op- 
pofition  to  them  ;  and  never  let  the  malice  of  our 
enemies  have  fo  efFc61:ual  an  advantage  over  us,  as  tol 
efcape  our  good- will  :  For  the  negle<Sled  and  defpifed  tj 
tenets  of  religion  are  (o  generous,  and  in  fo  tran- 
fcendant  and  heroic  manner  dlipofcd  for  public  good, 
that  it  is 'not  in  a  man's  power  to  avoid  their  influence. 5 
for  the  Chriftiaais  as  much  niclined' to  your  fesvice^ 
•when  your  enemy,  as  the  moral  man  when  your 
friend. 

"But  the  followers  of  a  crucified  iSaviour  muft:  root 
out  of  their  hearts  all  fenfe  that  there  is  any  thing 
great  and  noble  in  pride  or  haughtinefs  of  fpirit  ;  yet 
it  will  be  vciy  difficult  to  fix  that  idea  in  our  fouls, 
except  we  can'think  as  worthily  of  ourfelves,  when  we 
pra6tife  the  contrary  virtues  ;  we  muft  learn  and  be 
convinced,  that  there  is  ftomething  fublime  arid  hero- 
ic in  true  meeknefs  and  humility,  for  they  arife  from. ' 
a  great,  not  a  grovelling  idea  of  things  *,  for  as  cer- 
tainly as  pride  proceeds  from  a  mean  and  riarrow  view 
of  the  little  advantages  about  a  man's  felf,  fo  meek- 
uefs  is  founded  on  the  extended -contemplatiou  of  jhe  f 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  30Z 

place  we  bear  in  the  univerfe,  and  a  juft  obfervation 
how  little,  how  empty,  how  wavering  are  our  deepell  ^ 
refolves  and  counlels.  And  (as  to  a  well  taught  ' 
mind)  when  you  have  faid  an  haughty  and  proud 
man,  you  have  fpoke  a  narrow  conception,  little 
fpirit,  and  defpicable  carriage  •,  fo  when  you  have  faid 
a  man  is  meek  and  humble,  you  have  acquainted  us 
that  fuch  a  perfon  has  arrived  at  the  hardell  talk  in 
the  world,  in  an  univerfal  obfervation  round  him,  to 
be  quick  to  fee  his  own  faults,  and  other  men's  virtues, 
and  at  the  height  of  pardoning  every  man  fooner  than 
himfelf ;  you  have  alfo  given  us  to  underftand,  that 
to  treat  him  kindly,  fmcerely  and  refpedfully,  is  but 
a  mere  juftice  to  him  who  is  ready  to  do  us  the  fame 
X)fficcs.  This  temper  of  foul  keeps  us  always  awake 
to  a  juft  fcnfe  of  things,  teaches  us  that  we  are  as  well 
a-kin  to  worms  as  to  angels  ;  and  as  nothing  is  above 
thefe,  fo  nothing  below  thofe.  It  keeps  our  under- 
flanding  tight  above  us,  fo  tliat  all  things  appear  to  us 
great  or  little,  as  they  are  in  nature  and  the  fight  o£ 
Heaven,  not  as  they  are  gilded  or  fullied  by  accidents 
or  fortune. 

It  were  tobe  wifli^  that  all  men  of  fenfe  would 
think  i>  vvorth  their  while  to  reflect  upon  the  dignity 
cf  chriftiaii  virtues  -,  it  would  pofiibly  enlarge  their 
fouls  into  luch  a  contempt  of  what  faihion  and  preju- 
dice have  made  honorable,  that  their  duty,  inclinatior^j, 
and  honour,  would  tend  the  fame  way,  and  make  all 
their  lives  an  uniform  aft  of  religion  and  virtue. 

As  to  the  great  cataftrophe  of  this  day,  on  which 
the  Mediator  of  the  world  fufFered  the  greatefl  indig- 
nities, and  death  itfelf  forthefalvation  of  mankind,  it 
would  be  worth  gentlemen's  confideration,  whether 
from  his  example  it  would  not  be  proper  to  kil!  all  in- 
clinations to  revenge  ;  and  examine  whether  it  would 
not  be  expedient  to  receive  new  notions  of  what  is 
great  and  honour^ible. 

This  is  neceffary  againft  the  day  wherein  he  who 
died  ignominioully  for  us,  ''  ihall  deCcend  from  Hea- 
ven to  be  our  judge,  in  majefty  and  giory."      How 
will  the  man  who  fliall  die  by  the  fword  of  pride  aiiii 
B  b 


^^z        ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

.wrath,  and  in  contention  with  his  brother,  appear  be^ 
fore  him,  at  **  whofe  prefence  nature  fliall  be  in  an 
agony,  and  the  great  and  glorious  bodi.s  of  light  be 
obfcured  \  when  the  fun  (hall  be  darkened,  and  the 
moon  turned  into  blood,  and  all  the  powers  of  Heaven 
fhaken  ;  when  the  Heavens  themfelves  fhall  pafs  away 
with  a  great  noife,  and  the  elements  difTolve  with  fer- 
vent heat  *,ik  when  the  earth  aifo,  and  all  the  works  that 
are  therein,  {hall  be  burnt  up  ?" 

We  may  juftly  damp  in  our  minds  the  diabolical 
madnefs,  which  prompts  us  to  decide  our  petty  ani- 
mofities  by  the  hazard  of  eternity,  is,  that  in  that  one 
•a<Sl  the  criminal  does  not  only  highly  offend,  but  for- 
ces himfelf  into  the  prefence  of  his  judge,  that  is  cer- 
tainly his  cafe  who  dies  in  a  duel.  1  cannot  but  re- 
peat It,  he  who  dies  in  a  duel,  knowingly  offends  God, 
and  in  that  very  action  ruflies  into  his  offended  pre- 
fence. Is  it  poffible  for  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive 
a  more  terrible  image  than  that  of  a  departed  fpirit  in 
this  condition  ?  Could  we  but  fuppcle  it  has  but  juft 
left  its  body,  and  ftruck  with  the  terrible  refle^liopj 
that  to  avoid  the  laughter  of  fools,  and  being  the  by- 
word of  ideots,  it  has  now  precif)ltated  itfelf  into  the 
den  of  demons,  and  the  bowlings  of  eternal  defpair, 
how  willingly  now  would  it  fuffer  the  imputation  of 
fear  and  cowardice,  to  have  one  moment  left  not  to 
tremble  in.vam  ? 

The  Scriptures  are  full  of  pathetical  and  wnrm  pic- 
tures of  the  condition  of  an  happy  or  mifcrabie  futu- 
rity ;  and,  I  am  confident,  that  the  frequent  reading 
©f  them  would  make  the  way  to  an  happy  eternity  fo 
agreeable  and  pleafant,  that  he  who  tries  it  will  find 
the  difficulties,  which  he  before  fuffered  in  (hunning 
the  -iiurements.of  vice,abforped  in  the  pleafure  he  will 
take  in  the  purfuit  of  virtue  :  And  how  happy  muft 
that  mortal  be,  who  thinks  himlelf  in  the  favour  of  an 
Almighty,  and  csn  think  of  death  as  a  thing  which  it 
15  an  infirmity  not  to  defire. 

Guardian,  Vol.  L  No.  20. 


AlSblSONIAN  MISCELLANY.        3^^ 
EDUCATION. 

Jl  am  very  much  at  a  lofs  to  cxprefs  by  any  word' 
that  occurs  to  me  in  our  language,that  which  is  under- 
lloccl  by  Indoles  in  Latin.  The  natural  difpofitlon  to 
any  particular  art,  fcience,  profeilion  or  trade,  is  very 
much  to  be  confulted  in  the  care  of  youth,  and  (Ludied 
by  men  for  their  own  conduct,  when  they  form  to 
themfelves  any  fcfieme  of  life.  It  is  wonderfully  hard 
indeed,  for  a  man  to  judge  of  his  own  capacity  im- 
partiully.  That  may  look  great  to  me  wliich  may  ap- 
pear httleto  another,  andl  may  be  carried  by  fond- 
nefs  towards  myfelf  fo  far,  as  to  attempt  things  too 
high  for  my  talents  and  accompliihments  :  But  it  is 
not,  methinks,  fo  very  difficult  a  matter  to  make  a^ 
judgment  of  the  abilities  of  others,  efpetially  of  thofe 
who  are  in  their  infancy.  My  common-place  book" 
dlrc^Vs  me  on  this  occafion  to  mention  the  dawning 
cf  greatnefs  in  Alexander^  who  being  aiked  in  his  youth 
\o  contend  for' a  prize  in  the  Olympic  games,  anf\ver- 
ed  he  would,  if  he  had  kings  to  run  againfl  him.  Caf-^ 
ilusy  who  was  one  of  the  confpirators  againft  C.sfar^ 
gave  .;^  great  a  proof  of  liis  temper,  when  in  his  ckdd- 
hood  lie  ftruck  a  play-fellow,  the  fon  of  Sylta^  for  lay- 
ing his  father  was  mailer  of  the  Roman  people .  Scipio  is 
reported  to  have  anfwered  (when  fome  flatterers  ai: 
fup;*  r  were  aflcing  him  what  the  Romans  fliould  do  fof 
a  General  after  his  death)  take  Marius.  Marim  was 
then  a  very  boy,  and  had  given  no  inltances  of  his  vaK 
our  •,  but  it  was  vifihle  to^ScipiOf  from  the  manners  oL' 
the  youth,  that  he 'had  a  foul  formed  for  the  attempt" 
and  execution  of  great  undertakings.  I  mud  confefs, 
I  have  very  often  witn  much  forrow  bewailed  the  mis- 
fortune of  the  children  of  Great  Britain^  when  I  confi- 
der  the  ignorance  and  undifcerning  of  the  generality 
cf  fchoolmafters.  The  boafted  liberty  we  talk  of,  is 
but  a  mean  reward  for  the  long  fervitude,  the  many 
heart-aches  and  terror*;,  to  which  our  childhood  is  ex- 
po fed  in  going  through  a  giammar-fchool  :^  Many  of 
thefe  flupid  tyrants  exercile  their  cruelty  without  any 
manner  of  diiUnQion  of  the  capacities  of  children;  or ' 


^04  ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY. 

the  int?entIon  of  parents  in  iheir  behalf*  'Hiere  are, 
ir.5ny  excellent  tempers  whicli  are  worthy  to  be  ncur- 
iflieci  and  cultivat-M  \vith  all  poifible  diligence  and 
care,  that  were  never  defigntd  to  be  acquainted  witk 
jiriJiotUy'-rullyyQx  yirgil  \  and  there  are  as  many  who 
have  capacities  for  underflanding  every  word  thofc 
great  pcrions  have  writ,  and  yet  were  net  born  to  have 
any  reliih  of  their  writings.  For  want  of  this  com- 
mon and  obviou§'dircerning  in  thoie  who  have  the  care 
of  youth,  we  have  io  many,  hundred  unaccountable, 
creatures  every  age  whipped  up  into  G;Teat  fcholars, 
who  are  for  ever  near  a  right  underflanding,  and  will 
never  arrive  at  it.  Thefe  are  the  fcandal  of  letters, 
and  thefe  a:e  generally  the  nicn  who  are  to  teach  oth-. 
ers.  The  fenle  of  fliame  and  honour  is  enough  to 
keep  the  world  itf?lf  in  order  witlicut  corporeal  punifh- 
ment,  much  more  to  train  the  minds  of  uncoriupted 
and  innocent  children.  It  happens,  I  doubt  not,  more 
than  once  in  a  year,  that:  a  lad  is  chafliied  for  a  block- 
head, w^hen  it  is  good  apprehenfion  that  -makes  him 
incapable  of  knowing  what  his  teacher  means  :  A  brifk. 
5maginaiion  very  often  may  lugged  an  error,  which  a 
lad  could  not  have  fsllen  into,  il  he  had  been  as  heavy 
in  conjecSturing,  as  his  mafter  in  explaining  :  But  there 
is  no  mercy  even  towards  a  ivrong  interpretation  of 
his  meaning  ;  the  fuijcrings  of  the  fcholar's  body  are 
to  rectify  the  miftakes  rf  his  mind. 

lam  confident  that  no  boy,  w:ho  will  not  be  allured 
X<2  letters  without  blows,  will  ever  'be  brought  to  any 
tiling  with  them.  A  great  or  good  inind  mufl  necef-. 
iarily  be  the  w'orfe  for  fuch  inslignities  *,  and  it  is  a  fad 
change  to  icfe  of  its  virtue  for  the  improvement  of  its 
knowledge.  No  one  whohas  gone  through  what  they 
call  a  gr^at  fchool,  but  mull  remiembcr  to  have  feeii 
children  of  excellent  and  ingenuous  natures  (as  has  af- 
terwards appeared  in  their  manhcod) — I  fay  no  ^man 
has  pafTed  through  this  w'ay  of  education,  but  m.uft 
have  feen  an  ingenuous  creature  expiring  vv^ith  fhame, 
with  pale  looks,  befeeching  forrow,  and  filcift  tears, 
throw  up  its  honefl  eyes,  and  kneel  on  its  tender 
knees,  to  an  inexorable  bigclthead,  to  be  forgiven, t^e.: 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.         3^5: 

M-fe  quantity  of  a  word  in  making  a  Latin  verfe  :  Thc^ 
child  is  puniilied,  and  the  next  day  he  commits  a  like" 
crime,  and  fo  a  third  with  the  fame  confequence.  I' 
would  fain  aik  any  reafonable  man,  whether  this  lad,- 
in  the  fimplicity  of  his  native  innocence,  full  of  (hame, 
and  capable  of  any  impreffion  from  that  grace  of  foul,' 
was  not  fitter  for 'any  purpofe  in  this  hfe,  than  aft^r 
that  fpark  of  virtue  is  extingui{l;ed  in  him,  though  he« 
is  able  to  wri^r  tvv'enty  verfes  in  an  evening  ? 

Seneca  fays,  after  his  exalted  way  of  thinking,  "  as^ 
the  immortal  gods  never  learnt  any  virtue,  though  they 
are  endued  with  all  that  is  good  :  fo  there  are  fome 
'lien  who  have  fo  natural  a  propenfity  to  what  they 
iiould  foUo'.v,  that  Jhey  learn  it  almoft  as  foon  as  they^ 
'icar  it."  Plants  and  vegetables  are  cultivated  into  thef 
production  of  finer  fruit  than  they  would  yield  with- 
oat  that  care  ;  zvA  yet  we  cannot  entertain  hopes  o£ 
producing  a  tender,  confcious  fplrit  into  a(Sls  of  virtue, 
without  the  fame  methods  as  is  ufed  to  cut  timber,  off- 
give  new  flnpe  to  a  piece  of  ftone. 

*It  is  wholfy  to  this  dreadful  pradice  that  we  may 
attribute  a  certain  hardnefs  and  ferocity  which  forne 
iTieu,  though  liberally  educated,  carry  about  them  in 
all  their  bckavicur.  To  be  bred  like  a  gentleman,  and 
puniilied  like  a  malefactor,  mud,-  as  v/e  fee  it  does,  pro- 
duce tiiat  illiberal  faucinefs  wJiich  we  fee  fometimesia 
men  of  letters. 

The  Spartan  l>oy  who  fufFcred  the  fox  (which  he  had 
ftolen  and  hid  unaer  his  coat)  to  eat  into  his  bowels,  I 
dare  fay  had  not  half  the  wit  or  petulance  which  we 
learn  at  great  fchooh  among  us  :  But  the  gloriou* 
fenfe  of  honour,  or  rather  fear  of  fliame,  which  he  de- 
monftrated  iiFthat  action^  was  worth  all  the  learning 
in  the  world  without  it. 

It  is,  methinks,  a  very  melancholy  confideration, 
that  a  little  negligence  can  fpoil  us,  but  great  induftry 
is -necellary  to  improve  us  ;  the  moft  e':ccellent  natures 
are  foon  depreciated,  but  evil  tempers  are  long  before 
they  are  exalted  into  good  habits.  To  help  this  b^ 
punilhments,  is  the  fimie  thing  as  killing  a  man  to  cure 
him  oi  a  distemper  jwhen  he  corner  to-fuffer  punilli- 


3o5       AD0ISONI ANT  MISCELL AKY: 

mentin  that  one  circumftance,  he  is  brought  bfel3\T= 
the  exiftence  of  a  rational  creature,  and  is  in   the  (late 
of  a  brute    that  moves  only   by  tlie   admonition  of 
ftripcs.     But   fince  this  cuftom  of  educating  by  the 
lafh,  is  fufFered  by  the  gentry  of  Great- Britain,  I 
would  urgie  only  tnat  honed,  ntavy  lads  may  be  dif- 
mifled  from    ilavery  fooner  than  they  are  at  prefent. 
and   not  whipped  on  to  their  fourteenth'  or  fifteenth 
year,  whether  they  expe6l  any  progref-*  from  them  or 
not.     Let  the  child's  capacity  be  forthwith  examined, 
and  he  fent  to  fome   mechanic    wav"  of  life,,  withcut 
refpe6l  to  his  birth,  if  nature  defigiied  him  for   notic- 
ing higher  :  Let  him  go  before- be  has^ancccniiy  fuf-      .1 
fered,  and  is  debafed  into  a  deiTliclion  of  mind  fcr       : 
ieing  what  it  is  no  guilt  to  be,  a  plain  man. '    I  wculd-      | 
not  here  be  fuppofed  to  have  faid,  that    our  learned      I 
men  of  either  robe,  who  have  been  ivhipped  at  fchcci,      j 
are  not  ftill  men  of  noble  and  liberal  minds  -,  but  I  am  .•     j 
fure  they  had    been  much  more  lb  than  they  are,  had  ' 
they  never  fuffered  that  in farr.y.       .     - 

Sfectatok,  Vol.  IL.Ko.  157.  T=    -  ; 

I  confideran^human  foul  withcnt   cd'ac;:t-jon,  like  1 

marble  in  the  quarry,  Vv'hiLh  fnevv'S  none  of  its  inlie--  -; 
rent  beauties,  till  the  ikill  CI  the  pcjiih'cr   fetches  out' 
the  colours,  m.akesthe  furface  fliine  and  difccvers  eve- • 
•ry  ornamental  cloud,  fpot-,  and  vein  that  runs  through . 

the  body  of  it.     Education,*'after'  the  .lame  manner,  ..  ^ 

wlien  it  works  upon  a  noble  mind,'  draws  out  to  view  1 
every  latent  virtue  and  perfection,  which  without  fuch  . 
help's,  are  never  able  to  make  their  appearance. 

if  my  reader  will  give  me  leave  to  change  the  allu-  < 

fion  fo   foon  upon  him,  I  fliall  make   ufe  of  the  fame  ' 

iaftance  to  illuftrate  the  force  of  education,  which  Jr-  } 

j/i?//j  has  brought  to  explain.his    do<ilrine  of  fubftan-  .: 

tial  forms,  when  he  tells  us  that    a  llatue  lies  hid  in  a  r; 

block  of  marble  -,  and  that  the  art  of  the  (latuary  on^  1 

ly  .clears  away  the  fuperfluous  nrratter,  and  removes.-  ; 

the  rubbifh.     The  figure  is  in  the  ftone,  the  fculpture  ^ 

qnly  finds  it.     What  fcHiIpture  is  to  a  block  of  mar--  j 
bie,  education  is  to  aa human  foul.    The  philofopher,. 


ADDISONIAN  MISCELLANY.  W^tj 

the  faint,  or  the  hero,  the  wife,  the  good,  or  the  great 
man,  very  often  lie  hid  and  concealed  iir  a  Pk^bian, 
which  a  proper  education  miglit  have  difinterred,  and 
have  brought  to  light.  I  am  therefore  much  delight- 
ed with  reading  the  accounts  of  fivage  nations,  and 
with  contemphttng  thofe  virtues  which  are  wild  and 
uncultivated  j  to, fee  couraor';  txertinc^  itfelf  in  fierce- 
nefs,  r;ifolution  in  •  '^!lii^y,  wiidom  in  cunning,  pa- 
tience in  fullennefs  rin(Mlerp  lir. 

Men's  p;.fiioiis  operate  variouily,  and  appear  in  dif- 
fer-^nt  kinds  cf  i;6l:-  ts-)  r.ccording  as  they  are  more  or 
LTs  r^dtified  and  fwaycd  by  reafoii.  When  one 
hears  of  negroes,  who  upon  the  death  of  their  maf- 
ters,  or  upon  changing  their  fervice,  hang  theiTifelves 
upon  the  next  ivce,  -as  it  frequently  happens  in  our 
.^Wr/V/iv  plantations — .vho  can  forbear  .-".diiriring  their 
'ide!ity>t!.o' it  exprelVcs  itf«:!f  info  dreadful  a  maiinei  ? 
What  might  not  llir.t  favagc  greatncfs  of  foul,  which 
nppears  in  thcfe  poor  wretches  on  many  occafions,be 
r.iifcd  to,  were  it  rightly  cultivated  ?  And  what  co- 
lour of  ex^Ui'e  c?-n  there  be  for  the  contempt  with 
which  ,  we  treat  this  part  cf  our  fpccies  ?  That  we 
iKould  not  put  them  upon  the  cf-'namon  foot  oi  human ;- 
ty,  th<;t  \ve  Ihoidd  onh/fctan*inlignificant  fine  upon  the 
man  who  murders  them  ;  nay,  we  (hould  as  much  as 
iu  us  lies,  cut  them  ciffrcm  the  profpeclsoi-happinefs 
in  another  world  as  well  as  iii  tiii's,  and  deny  them 
that  whioh  we  look  upon  as  the  proper  means  for 
attaining  It  ? 

Since  I  am  engaged  on  this  fubjeO:,!  cannot  forbear 
mentionmg  a  (lory  which  I  have  lulily  heard,  and 
which  is  to  Vv-eli  attelted,  that  1  have  no  manner  of 
reafon  to  fufpcdl;  the  truth  of  it.  I  may  call  it  a  kind 
of  wild  tragedy,  that  palled  about  twelve  years  ago  at 
Jit.  ChriJlopher\,  one  of  our  Britifh  leewaxd  iHaiid?, 
The  negroes  who. were  the  perfons  concerned  in  it, 
were  all  of  them  the  ihives  of  a  gentleman  whojs  now 
in  England. 

This  gentleman  had  among  his  negroes,  a  young 
woman,  who  was  looked  upon  as  a  moil  extraordina- 
ry beauty  by  tligfe  of  her  own  cojTopkxion.    He  had 


368        ADbrSONIAN  MISCELLANY." 

at  the  fame  time  two  young  fellows  who  were  llkea 
wife  negroes  and  flaves,  remarkable  for  the  comelinefs- 
of  their  perfons,  and  for  the  friendihip  which  they 
bore,  to  one  another.  It  unfortunately  happened,  that 
both  of  them  fell  in  love  with  the  female  negra 
above-mentioned, 'who  would  have  been  very  glad  to 
have  taken  either  of  them  for  her  hufband,  provided 
they  could  a^ree  between  thc^felves  which  fhould  be 
the 'man.  But  they  were  wbth.  fo.  paffionately  in 
love  with  her,  that  neither  of  them  would  think  of 
gaining  her  without  his  friend's  confcnt.  •  The  tcr*- 
mcnts  of  thefe  tv/o  lovers  were  the  difcourfe  of  -the 
family  to  which  they  belonged,  who  could  net  forbear 
obferving  the  (Irange  complication  of  pafRons  which 
perplexed  the  hearts  of  the  poor  ne2[roes,who  often 
dropped  expreilions  of  the  uneafmefs  tliey  underwent, 
aKd  how  impolFible  it  was  for  either  of  them  ever  to 
be  h?.ppy.  -  ■  ■ 

Alter  a  long  flruggle  betvv'een  love- and  friendflilpt", 
truth  and  jealcufy,  they  one  day  took  a  walk  together 
into  a  wood,  carrying  their  miitrefs  along  with  them  : 
Where  after  abundance  of  lamentations,  they  ftabbed 
her  to  the  heart,  of  whith  ilie  immediately  died.  A 
Have  who  was  at  his  T^'ork  net  far  from  the  plsce 
where  this  aft onifhing  piece  of  cruelty  was  committed, 
hearing  the  fhrieks  of  the  dying  perfons  ran  to  fee 
what  was  the  occafion  of  them.  He  there  difcover- 
td  the  woman  lying  dead  upon  the  ground,  with  the 
two  negroes  on  each  fide  of  her,  kiffing  the  dead 
cerpfe,  weeping  over  it,  and  beating-  their  breafts  in 
ihe  utmoft  agonies  of  grief  and  defpair.  He  immes- 
diately  ran  to  the  -EngJiih.  family  with  the  i;ie\^s  of 
what  he  had  ktn  •,  Vv'ho  upon  com.irg  to  the  place,  faw 
the  woman  dead,  and  the  two  negroes  expiring  by 
her  with  v/ounds  they  had  given  themfelves. 

We  fee  in  this  amazing  inllance  of  barbarity,  what 
ilrange  diforders  are  bred  in  the  minds  of  thofe  men 
whofe  pafficns  are  not  regulated  by  virtue,  and  difck- 
plined  by  reafon.  Though  the  a6lion  which  I  have 
recited,  is  in  itfclf  full  of  guilt  and  horror,  it  proceeded 
froBi  ^  temper  of.  mind  wliich  might  have   produc?4 


AD?)!§ONIAN  MISCELLANY.        30^ 

▼cry  noble  fruits,  had  it  been   informed   and  guided 
by  a  fuitable  education." 

It  is  therefore  an  unfpcnka!  ie  blefTiiig  to  be  born  in 
thofe  parts  of  the  world  wliere  wii'iom  and  knowl- 
edge tiourifh  i  ikough,  it  mu(>  be  coiifeiTcd,  there  are, 
even  in  the  fe  p^'.rtSj  feveral  poc;>  uninttrutied  perfons, 
who  arc  but  llitle  above  the  inhabitants  of  thofe  na- 
tions of  which!  h;ive  been  here  Ipeaking  •,  ns  thcfe 
who  have  lijd  the  advanta^'es  of  a  inorc  lihciaJ.  educa- 
tion, rlio  above  one  aiiotn^^r  by  feyerai  dilTcrcm  de- 
grees of  perfe£lion.  For  to  retu-in  to  our  ftatuo  in 
the  block  of  marble,  we  fee  it  fo-^nctines  only  begun 
to  be  chipped,  fometimes  rouglihewn,  and  cut  juft 
Iketchcd  nito  an  human  figure  ;  frmetimes  we  fee  the 
man  appearing  diif  incSlly  in  all  his  limbs  and  features  ^ 
fometimes  we  fmd  the  figure  wrought  up  to  a  great 
elegancy,  but  feldom  meet  with  any  to  which  the 
hand  of  a  Phidias  or  Pri7A/V^/Vj  could*  not  give  feveral 
nice  touchings  and  finifliings. 

Dlfcourfcs  of  morality,  and  re  fie  61  Ions  upon  human 
nature,  are  the  bcft  means  we  can  make  ufe  of  to  im- 
prove our  miinds,  and  gain  a  true  knowledge  of  our- 
felvcs,  and  confequently  to  recover  our  fouls  out  of 
the  vice,  ignorance,  and  prejudice,  which  naturally 
clea/e  to  them.  1  have  all  along  profeft  myfelf  in  tins 
p:iper  a  promoter  of  thefe  great  ends  ;  and  I  flatter 
myfiif  that  I  do  from  day  to  day  contribute  fomething 
to  the  polifhing  of  men's  miilds  ;  at  leaflr  my  defign  is 
laudable,  whatever  the  execution  may  be.  1  muft 
confefs  I  am  not  a  little  ejicouraged  in  it  by  many 
letters  which  I  receive  from  unknown  hands,'  in  ap- 
probation of  my  endeavors ;  and  muft  take  this  op- 
portunity of  returning  my  thanks  to  thofe  who  write 
them,  and  excufnig  myfelf  for  not  inferting  feveral  of 
them  in  my  papers,  which  I  am  fcnfible  M'ould  be  a 
very  great  ornament  to  them.  Should  I  publifli  the 
praifes  which  are  fo  well  penned,  they  would  do  hon- 
our to  the  perfons  who  write  them,  but  my  publifliing 
of  them  would,  I  fear,  be  a  fufhcient  initance  to  the 
v/,orld  that  I  did  not  deferve  them. 

SPECTATOKy  Vol.  in.  No.  215.  C. 


3J«  ADDISONIAN  MISC 

I  fliall  give  the  folio //ing  letter  no  other  recom-' 
mendation,  than  6y  telling  my  readers  that  it  comes 
from  .the  fame  hand  with'that  of  laft  Thurfday. 

SIR, 

^'  JL^^">I'ND  you,  according  to  my  promife,  fome  far- 
ther  thoughts  on  the  education  of  youth,  in  which  I 
intend  to  difcuisjih^t/amcus  quellion,  fixhether  the  edu^ 
catim  at  a putlLC^j^^':ii,/cr  under  a  private  tutor,  is  to  ke 
frcfcmd. 

"  As  fome  of  the  greated  men  In  mod  ages  have, 
been  of  very  diffv^rent  opinions  in  this  matter,  I  fhall 
give  a  (hort  account  of  what  I  think  may  be  beft  ur- 
ged en  both  fides,  and  afterwards  leave  every  perfoa 
to  determine  for  himfelf.  ^ 

"  It  is  certain  from  Suetonius^  that  the  Romans 
thought  the  education  of  t;heir  children  abufmefs  pro- 
perly belonging  to  the  parents  themfelves  ;  and  Plu^ 
tarchy  in  &f  life  of  Marcus  CaiOy  tells  US,  that  as  fooa 
as  his  fon  was  capable  of  learning,  Cato  would  fufFer 
no  body  to  teach  him  but  himfelf,  though  he  had  a 
fervant  named  Chiky  who  was.  an  excellent  gramnia-- 
rlan,  and  who  taught  a  great  many  other  youths. 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  Greeks  feemed  more  inclined 
to  public  fchcols  and  feminaries. 

*'  A  privat(;,education,  promifes  in  the  firfl  place,, 
virtue  and  good  breeding  ;  a  public  fchool,  manly  af-. 
furance,  and  an  early  knowledge  in  the  ways  of  ths 
world. 

"  Mr.  Locke,  in  his  celebrated  treatife  of  Educatiirty 
confefies  that  there  are  inconvcniencf  s  to  be  feared  oiv 
both  fides  :  If,  fays  he,  /  keep  my  fon  at  heme,  he  is  in  dan- 
ger cj  hecoming  my  ycung  majier  :  If  I  fend  him  abroad,  it  ii 
Jcarce  pcffjble  to  keep  hitn  from  the  reigning  contagion  of  rude- 
r.ep  and  'vice.  He  <vjill  perhaps  be  more  innocent  at  home,  but 
mere  ignorant  of  the  nxiorld,  and  more  piepiftj  ijchen  hs  comes 
abroad  However,  as  tliis  learned  author  afferts,  that 
virtue  is  much  more  difficult  to  be  attained  than  a 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  that  vice  is  a  more  ftub- 
bora^-as  well  as  .^  more  <iangero.us  fault  than  Iheepilh-'^ 


AotIKiIAN  miscellany.         31I 

iiefs,  he  is  altogether  for  a  private  education  ;  and  the 
more  fo,  becauTe  he  does  not  fee  why  a  youth  with 
right  management,  might  not  attain  the  iame  aflur- 
ance  in  his  father's  houfe,  as  at  a  public  fchool.  To 
this  end  he  advifes  parents  to  aftuliom  their  fons  to 
whatever  flrange  faces  come  to  the  houfe ;  to  take 
them  with  them  when  they  vifit  their  neighbours,  and 
to  engage  them  in  converfatlon  with  men  of  parts  and 
breeding.  '    '>      ' 

"  It  may  be  objefted  to  this  fiffegjod,  that  conver- 
fatiop  is  not  the  only  thing  necefTatyf'ljut  that  unlefs 
it  be  a  converfation.with  fuch  as  are  in  fome  mcafure 
their  equals  in  part's  and  years,  there  can  be  no  room 
for  emulation,  contention,  and  feveral  of  the  mod  live- 
ly paffions  of  the  mind  •,  which,  without  being  fome- 
times  moved  by  thefe  means,  may  poflibly  contract  a 
dullnefs  and  infenfibility. 

**  One  of  the  greateft  writers  our  nation  ever  produ- 
ced obferves,  that  a  boy  who  forms  parties,  and  makes 
himfelf  popular  in  a  fchool  or  a  colkge,  would  a£t:  the 
fame  j^art  with  equal  eafe  in  a  fcnate,  or  a  privy-coun- 
cil :  And  Mr.  OJbom^  fpeaking  like  a  man  vevfed  in 
lLi\z  ways  of  the  world,  affirms,  that  the  well  laying 
and  carrying  on,  of  a  defign  to  rob  an  orchard,  trains 
up  a  youth  infenfibly  to  caution,  fecrecy,  and  clrcum- 
fpcclion,  and  fits  him  for  matters  of  greater  impor- 
tance. 

"  In  (hort,  a  private  education  feems  the  moft  natu- 
ral method  for  the  forming  of  a  virtuous  man  :  a  pub- 
lic education  for  the  making  a  man  of  bufinefs. 
The  firft  would  furniOi  out  a  good  fubje6l  for  Plato^^ 
republic,  the  latter  a  member  for  a  community  over- 
run with  artifice  and  corruption. 

"  It  mull  however,  be  confeffed,  that  a  perfon  at 
the  head  of  a  public  fchool,  has  fometimes  fo  many 
boys  under  his  dire£lion,  that  it  is  impoflible  he  fiiould 
extend  a  due  proportion  of  his  care  to  each  of  them. 
This  is  however,  in  reality,  the  fault  of  the  age,  in 
'which  we  often  fee  twenty  parents,  who  though  each 
cxpe<Sls  his  fon  fiiould  be  made  a  fcholar,  are  not  con- 
^e«ted  altogether  to  make  it  worth  while  for  any  man 


31?.         ADDISONIAN  IVIIS 

of  a  liberal  education  to  take  upon   him  the  care   of 
their  in{lru6tion. 

*'  In  our  great  fchodls  indeed  this  fault  has  been  of 
late  years  rectified,  l^jhat  v/e  have  at  prefent  not  on- 
ly ingenious  men  fot^fe;  chief  mafters,  but  fuch  as 
have  proper  ufhers  and  alTiflants  und^r  them.  I  muft 
neverthelefs  own  that  for  want  of  the  fame  encourage- 
ment in  the  cbu?Q:i^y,,,.wp  have  many  a  promifing  genius 
fpoiled  and  abi^dj^iTtSofe  little  feminaries. 

"  I  am  the^aMjRclined  to  this  opinion,  having 
myfelf  experiSfi^R*lfie  ufage  of  two  'rural  mafters, 
each  of  them*  v^ry  unfit  for  the  truft  they  took  upon 
them  to  difcharg€.  The  firft  impofed  much  more  up- 
on me  than  my  parts,  though  none  of  the  weakell, 
could  endure;  and  ufed  me  barbaroufly  for  not  per- 
forming impoffibilities.  The  laiter  was  of  quite  anoth- 
er temper  ;*  and  a  boy,  who  would  run  upon  his  er- 
rands, wafh  his  cofFec-pot,  or  ring  the  bell,  might  have 
as  little  converfation  w  1th  any  of  the  claflics  as  he  tho't 
fit.  I  have  known  a  lad  of  this  place  excufed  his  ex- 
crcife  for  aflfifling  the  cook-maid  ;  and  remember  a 
neighbouring  gentleman  s  fon  wasamongus  five  years, 
moil  of  which  time  he'  employed  in  airing  and  wa- 
tering our  mailer's  grey  pad.  1  fcorned  to  compound 
for  my  faults,  by  doiUji  any  of  thefe  elegant  offices, 
and  was  accordingly  the  beft  fcholar,  and  the  word 
ufed  of  any  boy  in  the  fchoof. 

«  I  (hall  conclude  this  difcourfe  with  an  advantage 
mentioned  by  ^««//V/a«,  as '  accompanying  a  pubHc 
way  of  education,  which  I  have  not  yet  taken  notice 
of  ;  namely,  that  we  very^  often  contract  fuch  friend- 
{hips  at  fchool,  as  are  a  fervice  to  us  all  the  following 
parts  of  our  lives. 

«  I  {hall  give  you,  under  this  head  a  ftory  very  well 
known  to  feveral  perfons,  and  which  you  may  depend 
upon  as  a  real  truth. 

"  Every  one  who  is  acquainted  with  Weftminfier 
fchool,  knows  that  there  is  a  curtain  which  ufed  to  be 
drawn  acrofs  the  room,  to  feparate  the  upper  fchool 
from  the  lower.  A  youth  happened  byfome  mifchance, 
to  tear  the  above-mentioned  curtain  ;  The  feverity  of 


klAN  MISCELLANY.        313 

the  mafter  was  too  well  known  for  the  criminal  to  ex- 
pert any  pardon  for  fuch  a  fault ;  fo  that  the  boy, 
who  was  of  a  meek  ttrnpcfy-was  terrified  to  death  at 
the  thoughts  of  his  appears n^flJMv hen  his  friend,  who 
fat  next  to  him,  bade  him%^^||^good  cheer,  for  that 
he  would  take  the  fault  onTlimfelf.  He  kept  his  word 
accordingly.  As  foon  as  they  were  grown  up  to  be 
ner,  the  civil  war  broke  out,  inj^ijftjr'dur  two  friends 
took  the  oppofite  fides,  one  AjBj^Ilowed  the  par- 
liament, the  other  the  royal  WtKKPii 

**  As  their  tempers  were  dffl^l^lfie  youth,  who 
ha.'!  torn  the  curtain,  endeavoured t^^Viife  himfelf  on 
the  civil  lift,  and  the  other,  who  had  borne  ihe  blame 
of  ;t,  on  the  military  :  The  firft  fucceeded  fo  well, 
that  he  was  in  a  (hort  time  made  a  judge  under  the 
prctedlior.  The  other  was  engaged  in  the  unhappy 
cntcrprife  of  PenruJc'ock  and  Groove  in  the  weft.  I  fup- 
pcfe.  Sir,  I  need  not  acquaint  you  with  the  event  of 
tlm  undertaking.  Every  one  knows  that  the  royal 
party  was  routed,  and  all  the  heads  of  them,  an'iOiig 
wliom  was  the  curtain  champion,  imprifoned  at  Exe- 
ter. It  happened  to  be  his  friend's  lot  at  that  time  to 
go  to  the  weltern  circuit  :  The  trial  of  the  rebels,  as 
they  were  then  called,  was  very  fliort,  7in<l  nothing; 
now  reniained  but  to  pafs  Fentence  on  them  \  when 
tlie  judge  hearing  the  name  of  his  old  friend,  and-ob- 
f.'rving  his  face  more  *tentively,  which  he  had  not 
feen  for  many  years,  aflied  him  it  he  was  not  former- 
ly a  IVeJlminjier  fcholar  :  By  the  anfwer,  he  was  fooii 
convinced  that  it  was  his  former  generous  friend  ;  and, 
without  faying  any  thins;  more  ;it  that  ^ime,  made  the 
bed  of  his  Way  to  London,  where  employing  all  his 
power  and  intereft  with  the  protedlor,  he  faved  his 
friend  from  tke  fate  of  his  i^.hiippy  afibciation. 

'*  The  gentleman  whofe  lif^  was  thus  preferved  by 
the  gratitude  of  his  fchool- fellow,  wks  afterwards  the 
father  of  a  fon,  whom  he  hved  to  fee  promoted  in  ihc 
church,  and  who  flill  defervedly  fdls  one  of  the  high- 
eft  .ftations  in  it. 

Spectator,, Vcl.  IV.  No.  ^i-i.  X. 
^      Cc 


1 14  ADDISONIAN  MKCl 

The  gentleman  who  obliges  the  worfrm  general, 
and  me  in  particular,  with  his  thoughts  upon  Educa- 
tion, hasjuft  fent  me  the  ;:^pw;;ng  letter  : 

Sir,  H^Ut^ 

*'  Jl  take  the  liberty  tojenii  you  a  fourth  letter  up- 
on the  Education^^^tilh..  In  my  lad  I  gave  you  my 
thoughts  about  f^H|fedjj4lar  talks,  which  I  conceiv- 
ed it  might  not  b^jgEJ^HHRiix  with  their  ufual  exer- 
cifes,  inorder  td^^^^Hpan  early  fea Toning  of  vir- 
tue ;  I  fliall  in  tljBBBiK  fome  others,  which  I  fancy 
might  contribute'w^ive  them  a  right  turn  for  the 
world,  and  enable  them  to  make  their  way  in  it. 

*'  The  defign  of  learning,  is,  as  I  take  it,either  to  ren- 
tier a  man  an  agreeable  companion  to  himfelf,  and 
teach  him  to  fupportf^litude  with  pleafure*,  or  if  he  is 
not  born  to  an  eltate,  to  fupply  that  defeat,  and  fur- 
nifli  him  with  the  means  of  acquiring  one.  A  perfon 
who  applies  himfelf  to  learning  with  the  firft  of  thefe 
viev/s,  may  be  faid  to  ftudy  for  ornament,  as  he  who 
propofes  to  himfelf  the  fecond,  properly  ftudies  for 
life.  The  one  does  it  to  raife  himfelf  a  fortune,the  oth- 
er to  fet  off  that  which  he  is  already  polTeffed  of.  But 
as  the  far  greater  part  of  mankind  are  included  in  the 
latter  clafs,  I  fhall  only  propofe  fome  methods  at  pre- 
ient  for  the  fervice  of  fuch  ^wj|^  expe£l  to  advance 
ihemfelves  i "»  the  world  by  th*eiriearning  :  In  order  to 
which  I  f^  all  premife,  that  m^y  more  eftates  have 
been  acquired  by  little  accomplifhments  than  by  ex- 
traordinary ones ;  thofe  quahties  which  make  the 
greateft  figure  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  not  being  al- 
ways the  mod  ufeful  in  themfelvesj  vx  the  moft  ad- 
vantageous to  their  owners, 

«*  The  pofts  which  require  men  of  fhining  and  un- 
common parts  to  difchar^e  them,  are  fo  very  few,  that 
many  a  great  genius  goes  out  of  the  world  without 
tver  havmg  had  an  opportunity  to  exert  itfelf  ;  where- 
as perfons  of  ordinary  endowments  meet  with  occa- 
fions  fitted  to  their  parts  and  capacities  every  day  in 
the  common  occurrences  of  iif^. 


NIAN  MISCELLANY.        315 

«'I  am  acquainted  with  two  perfons  who  were  for- 
merly fchool-fellows,  aig.d  j^ve  been  good  friends  ever 
fmce.  One  of  them  ^yBfirM|^}y  thought  an  impen- 
etrable blockhead  at  ^(d^H^H^  maintained  his  re- 
putation at  the  univer-/fflHjW^^^^  ^'^3  the  pride  of 
his  mailer,  and  the  mo{Fc^ebrated  perfon  in  the  col- 
lege of  which  he  was  a  n:;^qf^ftLj^^e  man  of  genius 
is  at  prefent  buried  in  a  Q||i||HHphage  of  eight- 
fcore  pounds  a  year  j  wll^^^^^K:,  with  the  bare 
abilities  of  a  common  fcrivd^^^^Hkot  an  edate  of 
above  an  hundred  thoufand  P^^B^B 

<*  I  fancy,  from  what  I  have  laiafrfF  will  almoft  ap- 
pear a  doubtful  cafe  to  many  a  wealthy  citizen,  wheth- 
er or  not  he  ought  to  wifh  His  fon^fliould  be  a  great  ge- 
nius ;  but  this  I  am  fure  of,  that  nothing  is  more  ab- 
furd  than  to  give  a  lad  the  education  of  one,  whom 
nature  has  not  favoured  with  any  particular  marks  of 
diftin^lion. 

"  The  fault  therefore  of  our  grammar  fchools  is, 
that  every  boy*is  pufhed  on  to  works  of  genius  •,  where- 
as it  would  be  far  more  advantageous  for  the  greateft 
part  of  them  to  be  taught  fuch  little  practical  arts  and 
iciences  as  do  not  require  any  great  fhare  of  parts  to 
be  mafter  of  them,  and  yet  may  come  often  into  play 
during  the  courfe  of  a  man's  life. 

"  Such  are  all  tl^ppyts  of  practical  geometry.  I 
have  known  a  man  contrail  a  friendfhip  with  a  minii- 
ter  of  ftate,  upon  ci^f^^ng  a  dial  in  his  window  ;  and 
remember  a  clergyman  who  got  one  of  the^beft  bene- 
fices of  the  wefl  of  England,  by  fettling  a  country^ 
gentleman's  affairs  in  fome  method,  and  giving  him 
an  exaft  furvey  of  his  eftate. 

"  While  I  am  upon  this  fubje£l,  I  cannot  forbear 
mentioning  a  particular  which  is  of  ufe  in  every  fta- 
tion  of  life,  and  which  methinks  every  mafter  mould 
teach  his  fcholars  :  I  mean  the  writing  of  Englifh  let- 
ters. To  this  end,  in  Head  of  perplexing  them  with 
Latin  epifcles,  themes,  and  vcrfes,  th^re  might  be  a 
pur/tual  correfpondenct  eftabiiihed  'between  two 
boyb,  who  might  adl:  in  any  imaginary  parts  of  bufi- 
nels,  or  be  allowed  fometimes  to  i^ive  a  range  to  their 


2\6        ADDISONIAN  MJfp 

own  fancies,  and  communri#te  to  ea^Kther  whatever 
trifies  they  thought  fit,  ^r^v-idgd  neither  of  them  ever 
failed  at  the  appoin^MHl|ffl|^nfwer  his  correfpou- 
dent's  '-^^^^^tmL 

I  beUeve  I  ^^y'tSKK^^KS^^^y  ^^^^  ^^^^  generali- 
of  boys  would  ^^^^^BWv<^s  more  advantaged  by 
is  cuflom,  w^Hjlfa8K|g  to  be  men,  than  by  all 


thi 


the  Greek  an^l^^^^^Ba^^rs  can  teach  them  in 
feven  or  eighty 

The  want  ql^^^^HRGble  in  many  learned  per- 
sons, who  whn^^^H|padmiring  the  ftylcs  of  De- 
■mojihenes  or  C;V3(P||prphrafes  tD  exprefs  themfclvcs 
on  the  mcft  ccmi-nbh  cccafion.  I  have  i^izn  a  letter 
from  one  of  thofe  Latin  orators,  which  would  have 
been  defervedly  laughed  at  by  a  common  attorney. 

Under  this  head  of  writing  I  cannot  omit  accounts 
and  fhort-hand,  which  are  learned  with  little  pains, 
and  very  properly  come  into  the  number  of  fuch  arts 
as  I  have  been  here  recommending. 

You  mud  doubtlefs,  Sir,  obferve,  -  that  I  have  hi- 
therto chiefly  infilled  upon  thefe  things  for  fuch  boys  as 
do  not  appear  to  have  any  thing  extraordinary  in  their 
natural  talents,  and  confequently  are  not  qualified  for 
the  finer  parts  of  learning ;  yet  I  believe  I  might  car- 
ry this  matter  Hill  farther,  and  venture  to  afiert,  that  a 
3ad  of  genius  has  fometimes^^fion  for  thefe  little 
acquirements,  to  be,  as  it  wcre^he  fore-runners  of  his 
parts,  and  to  introduce  him  injji^the  world. 

Hiftorj  is  full  of  examples  or  perfons,  who,  though 
they  have  had  the  largefl  abilities,  have  been  obliged 
to  infinuate  themfelves  into  the  favour  of  great  men  by 
thefe  trivial  accomplifhments  j  as  the  complete  gen- 
tleman in  fome  of  our  modern  comedies,  makes  his 
firft  advances  tQ  his  miflrcfs  under  the  difguife  of  a 
painter,  or  a  dancing-mafter. 

The  difference  is,  that  in  a  lad  of  genius  thefe  ars 
only  lb  many  accomplifliments,  which  in  another^  are 
elTentials ;  the  one  diverts  himfclf  with  thein>  the 
otner  works  at  them.  In  fliort,  I  look  upon  a  great 
genius,  with  thefe  little  additions,  in  the  fame  light  as 
I  regard  the  grand  Seignior,  who  is  obliged  by  an  ex- 


imClLLAI^r.       2ij 


.  to    learn   and  pra£tife 

need  not  have  gone 

where*feveral 

Leopold  the  laft, 

ard  there  are  fev- 

o  be  feen  at  Vi- 

er  in  Europe 

race   to  his 


I  have  faidg 

to  the  utmoft 

'd  endeavour  to 


j^refs  commancfin  the 
fume  handicraft  trad 
for  my  inftance  farth 
Emperors  have  done, 
worked  in  wood  *, 
eral  handicraft  works 
cnna,  fo  neatly  turned, 
might  fafely  own  them 
profeflion. 

"  I  would  not  be  thougl 
to  be  a  againft  improving  a 
pitch  it  can  be  carried.  A^' 
ihew  in  this  eflay,  is,  that  there  ma^'  be  methods  ta- 
ken to  make  learning  advantageous  even  to  the  mean- 
eit  capacities." 

Spectator,  Vol.  V. 'No.  353.  X.- 

*'  /"\S-I  walked  the  other  day  in  a  fine  garden,  and 
obterved  the  great  variety  of  improvements  in  plants 
and  flowers  beyond  what  they  otherwife  would  have 
been,  I  was  naturally  led  into  a  reflexion  upon  the 
advantages  of  education,  or  modern  culture  ;  how  ma- 
ny good  qualities  in  the  mind  are  loft,  for  want  of 
the  like  due  care  in  nurHiig,  and  fkilfully  managing 
them  J  how  virtues  gm^oaked,  by  the  multitude  of 
weeds  which  are  fuifJered  to  grov/  among  them  j  how- 
excellent  parts  are  ofi|||;i  ftarvedand  ufelefs,  by  being 
planted  in  a  wrong  foil ;  and  how  very  feldom  do  thefe 
moral  feeds  produce  the  noble  fruits  wliich  might  be 
cxpecStcd  from  them,  by  a  neglect  of  proper  manur- 
ing, neceffary  pruning,  and' an  artful  management  of 
bur  tender  inclinations  and  firft  fpring  of  life  :  Thefe 
"obvious  fpeculations  made  ine  at  length  conclude,  that 
"therd  is  a  fort  of  yege'table  prmciple  in  the  miiKl  of 
every  man  when  he  comes  into  the  world.  In  infants 
the  feeds  lie.  buried  and  undifcovered,  till  after  a  while 
they  fprout  forth  in  a  kind  of  rational  lea^es^  whiclit 
are  ^wcrds  -,  and  in  due  feafon  ^\htjlo^Mers  begin  to  ap- 
pear in  a  variety  of  beautiful  colours,and  all  the  gaj 
fiittfre^  etf  youthful' fancy  and  imaginatioti  j  at  kft 
C  c  2 


'31 8        ADDISONIAN 


the  fruit  knits,  and  isfb 
£rft,  and  four, 
be  gafeiiered  ;  ri 
difcovers  itfelf 
mathematics,  cl 
tation.     And  th 
turity,  and  ar 
ousnourifh 
further  on 
and  found  a 
the  vegetable 
Ihining  Jta/ia 
jn  motion  ; 


green,  perhaps 
tafte,  and  not  fit  to 
re  and  application,  it 
6tions  ot  philofophy, 
handfome  argumen- 
hey  arrive  at  jufl  ma- 
^  afford  the  moft  vigor- 
's of  men.  .  I  reflected 
leaves  before-mentioned, 
variety  among  them  as  in 
Id  eafily  obferve  the  fmooth 
e  nimble  French  afpen  always 
_  and  Latin  evergreens,  the  Spanijb 
3-nyrtle,  the  Engl"((}?  oak,  the  Scotch  thiftle,  the  Irijh 
iliambrogue,  the  prickly  German^  and  Dutch  holly,  the 
rolijh  and  Ruffian  nettle,  b'efides  a  vafl  number  of  exot- 
3CS  imported  from  j^fia,  Africa^  and  America.  I  faw  fe- 
veral  barren  plants,  which  bore  only  leaves,  without 
any  hopes  of  flow^er  or  fruit  :  The  leaves  of  feme  were 
.-fragrant  and  well-fliaped,  of  others  ill-fcented  and  ir- 
regular.  I  wondered  at  a  fet  of  old  whimfical  botan- 
Hfls,  who  fpend  their  whole  lives  in  the  contemplation 
©f  fome  withered  Egyptian,  Coptic y  Armenicny  or  Chintfe 
leaves,  while  others  made  it  their  bufinefs  to  colledk 
in  voluminous  herbals,  all  the  feveVal  leaves  of  feme 
•one  tree.  The  flowers  afforda  mod  diverting  enter- 
lainment,  in  a  wonderful  vffiR^r^  of  figures,  colours, 
and  fcenes  ;  however,  moft  oL*\hem  withered  foon, 
cr  at  beft  are  but  annuals.  Som^^rofelTed  fl^orills  make 
ihem  their  conftant  fludy  and  employment,  and  def- 
pife  all  fruit  ;  and  now  and  then  a  few  fanciful  pco- 
|)le  fpend  all  their  time  in  the  cultivation  of  a  fmgla 
tulip,  or  a  carnation  j  but  the  moil  agreeable  amufcr 
nient  feemstobe  the-well-choonng,  mixing,  and  bind- 
ing together  thefe  flow^ers'in  pleafing  nofegays  to  prer 
ient  to  ladies.  The  fcent  of  Italian  iiO\\tx%  is  obfery- 
c^,  like  their  other  perfumes  to  be  too  (Ircng,  and  to 
hurt  the  brain  ;  that  of  the  Trimh  with  glaring  gaudy 
rolours,  yet  faint  and  languid  ;  German  2in6.,  No^}-th em 
Sowers  have  little  or  no  fmell,  or  fometlnies  an  uiv- 
fleaf^iU  opc.    The  aaQknt$la4  ^i^W%  to giyc  .a,laflj- 


[ISCELLANY. 


3^9 


ing  beauty,  col 
choice  flowers,  wl 
few  of  the  moderns 
enough  and  agrecaL. 
handiomely  adorn  an 
nefs  of  them  feems 
to  find  a  plant  vigorous 
ange-tree)  at  once  beaut 
flowers,  and  delicious  noui 
«    Spe( 


to  fome  of  their 
lis  day,  and  whiLh 
"  are  becoming 
and  do  often 
an  over-fond- 
irely  happens 
like  an  or- 
fra  grant 

I.  No  455. 


Mr.  Spectator, 

"  Ji  GRE\V  tall  and  wild  at  my  mother's,  who  is  a 
gay  widow,  and  did  not  care  for  fhewing  me,  till  about 
two  years  and  a  half  ago  ;  at  which  lime  my  guardi- 
an uncle  fent  me  to  a  boarding-fchocl,  with  orders  to 
contradict  me  in  nothing,  for  I  had  been  mifufed 
enough  already.  I  had  not  been  there  more  than  a 
month,  when  being  in  the  kitchen,  I  faw  fome  oat- 
meal on  the  drefltr  ;  I  put  two  or  three  corns  in  my 
mouth,  liked  it,  dole  a  handful,  went  into  my  cham- 
ber, chewed  it,  and  for  two  months  after  never  failed 
taking  toll  of  every  pennyworth  of  Oatmeal  that  came 
into  the  houfe  :  But  one  day  playing  with  a  tobacco- 
pipe  between  my  teeth|b|j|||iappened  to  break  in  my 
mouth,  and  the  fpitti  1.^0114  of  the  pieces  left  fuch  a 
delicious  roughnefs  on^|^-  tc^gue,  that  I  could  not  be 
fatisfied  till  I  had  champid  up  the  remaining  part  of 
the  pipe.  I  forfook  the  oatmeal,  and  ftuck  to  the 
pipes  three  months,  in  which  time  I  had  difpenfed 
with  thirty-feven  full  pipes,  all  to  the  boles ;  they 
belonged  to  an  old  s^entleman,  father  to  my  govern- 
efs — he  locked  up  the  clean  ones.  I  left  off  eating 
of  pipes,  and  fell  to  licking  of  chalk.  I  was  foon  tir- 
td  of  this  j  1  thSi  nibbled  all  the'rcd  wax  of  our  laft 
ball  tickets  ;  and  three  weeks  after,  the  black  wax 
from  the  burying  tickets  of  the  old  gentleman.  Two 
months  after  this  I  lived  upon  thunderbolts,  a  certain 
Jong,  round,  bluifh  {lone,  which  I  found  among  the 
gravel  in  our  garden.     I   was.  wonderfully  delighted 


kering  to 
Tilready  cod 
have  drellel 
came  for 


32c        ADDISONIi^^^^^Hnr. 

with  this  -y  but  tlagMj^^^^SoP^rce,  I  faileiiec^' 
tooth  and  nail  u^^^^^^^B^rHl,  which  I  fluck- 
to  almoil  a  ^^^^^fj^^^^^^^Bf^  ^t  that  time  peekd. 
and  devouredf^^^^^^^^^Hpfds  our  neighbour V 
yard.  I  "^^^^l^^^^^^^H^  happiell  creature  in 
the  world,  ^n^^^^^^HVconfcience)  I  had  eaten 
quite  throd^^^^^^^^K  my  chamber  *,  but  now 
1  became  ^^^^^^^^^^B>g  to  ilir,  and  was  obliged 
to  feek  fo^^^^^^^^V  I  then  took  a  flrange  han- 
^^^^^fcranching  them,  and  h^d 
^^^^K  certain,  as  much  as  could 
^^HPoing-dinncr,  when  my  uncle 
Wr  He  was  in  the  parlour  with  my 
governefs,  when  I  was  called  down.  I  went  in,  fell 
on  my  knees,  for  he  made  me  call  him  father  ;  and 
when  I  expeded  the  blelhng  I  aiked  for,  the  good  gen- 
tleman, in  a  fuiprize,  turns  himfelf  to  my  governefs, 
and  aiks,  whether  this  (pointing  to  me)  was  his  daugh- 
ter :  This  (added  he)  is  the  very  p/i£lure  of  death. 
My  child  was  a    plump-faced,   hale,   frefli-coloured> 

E'ri  ;  but  this  looks  as  if  ihe  was  half  ftarved,  a  mere' 
elcton.  My  governefs,  who  is  really  a  good  woman^ 
alTured  my  father  I  had  wanted  for  nothing  •,  and  with- 
al told  him,  I  was  continually  eating  feme  trafh  of 
other,  and  that  I  was  almoft  eaten  up  with  the  green- 
ficknefs,  her  orders  being^jMr  to  crofs  me.  But  this 
:magniiied.  but  little  on  ip^^h^kr,  v;ho  prefently  in  a 
kind  of  pet,  paying  for  1^  U(j|P^>  took  mc  home  with 
.him,  I  had  not  been  loxfg  at  home,  but  one  Sunday 
at  church  (1  (hail  never  forget  it)  I  faw  a  young  neigh-- 
bouring  gentleman  that  pleafed  me  hugely  •,  1  liked 
him  of  aii  men  I  ever  faw  in  my  life  ;  and  began  to 
with  I  could  be  as  pleafmpr  to  him.  The  very  next 
day.  he  came,  with  his  father,  a  vifiting  to  our  houfe  : 
"We  were  left  iilone  together,  with  ^iredlions  on  both 
iides  to  be  in  love  with  one  another,  and  in  three 
■weeks  time  we  v/ere  married.  I  regained  my  former 
health  and  complexion,  and  afh  now  as  ^appy  as  th& 
day  is  long.  Now,  iMr.  Spe£lator,  I  defire  you  would 
find  out  feme  name  for  thefe  cravi?ig  dararels,  wheth- 
er dignified  or  diftingwifhed  uhder  fome  or  all^he  fol* 


lowing  denon? 
chenxersy  Pipe  cJu 
fcranchers,    iVall-peei 
Sir,  do  your  utmof  , 
cxpofixig  this  un2cc( 
*he  young  ones  of 
fuch  good  luck  as, 


JCELLANY. 


:21 


,  who 
SIR 


m. 


■eater St    Oatmeal- 
' axnibbUrs^    Coal- 
And,  good 
^;ent  them,   by 
iling  among 
)t  meet  with 


[.No.  431. 


riNis. 


«v 


i 


!> 


CON 


>-] 


Page. 

Page. 

T 

Animnh, 

68 

JUlFE  p/JJdi/on, 

3  Amufements  cf  Life, 

73 

J h fence  in  Coni^erfation 
Abfence  of  Lovers y 

9   Anger 

76 

1  2 ,  Aniiochus^ 

85 

Abjiinence, 

13    AntSy 

-       86 

Accounts^ 

1 4. '  An\  ictissy 

98 

Jaians, 

\(i  Apparitions y 

oaj- 

Ad'vice, 

18   Appear ancesy 

I0> 

Adverfity^ 

20  Appetites y 

106 

Ad-vertifcmentSy 

2  1  1  Applaufe, 

.  1 12 

Adulterers  y 

26]  Arcadian  y 

115 

AffeBatioHy 

ibi/-i  -"yhiteaurey      , 

118 

Affedions^ 

'           \jrun!enisy 

^23 

Affli^wisy 

-r^^myy 

125 

Age, 

Agreeable  Man, 

34 

^f{:: 

126 
131 

Agreeable  in  Company y 

3^ 

Avarice, 

^35 

Allegoriesy 

36 

Bacon  fSzr  Francis  J 

138 

Alexander, 

45 

Bankruptcyy 

142 

AllufionSy 

47 

Bath,  Obfer  nations  en 

the 

Alcibiades, 

48 

Company^ 

146 

Ambition, 

49 

Beardsy 

iqo 

Amity, 

55 

Beauty, 

'53 

Ana  erectly 

59 

Beings, 

158 

Anatomvy 

60 

bills  of  Mortality y 

163? 

Ancejiry, 

64 

Bloik  heads. 

166 

Ancient  Writers] 

6; 

Blindnefs, 

169 

Boch,  ■  ^^ 

Bujy  part  of  Use  I^ 
Cula/nujcs, 

Caeiia, /^^r/i 

Cthfwrk, 
Fdrlfiur^  ^ili\ 

Charms, 
Ckajiit;-, 
Cheer fulnefs, 
C herulims  and 

phims, 
Ctilc/reziy 
Chrtjlian  Church, 
Chrijiian  P.eligioi^ 
Chri/itans,  their        "J 

j1d<x:  ant  ages.,  \ 

Cicero'.-    Lexers  // 

his    Wije/ 


\ 


207 
210 
214 
2  16 

2ZZ 


^^^^^■CTentia^ 

224 

^^^^^^^^v 

22rf 

^^^^^m 

^^^^F 

230 

^^^^fFrayer, 

233 

^^^m/c:nce. 

^hl 

^^Bi^^z/  JJlf^ionSf 

240 

^^^iigiil  Ajjii^iany 

244 

W^temment, 

246 

Wonver/atiofj, 

253 

WJountry  Gentlemant 

259 

Cteation, 

«0I 

dymn  of  Gratitude, 

265 

De-votion, 

266 

Difc-eiion, 

274 

D'jlreJTes, 

278 

D limine  N^turCy 

2b6 

Drefs, 

290 

Drinkingi 

294 

Dudiing, 

299 

hducation^ 

303' 

■.^^ 


<^ 


